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#the only thing that has stopped me from drinking before was that it was illegal
dante-mightdie · 9 months
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thinking about mafia!simon… minors dni!
mafia!simon x female!reader
pt. 2 here!
warnings: little bit nsfw, slight illusion to sex at end, mentions of violence and weapons, mentions of illegal activity, simon gets jealous
i was gonna write nsfw but couldn’t be bothered but let me know if you want it and I’ll write it 👀
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thinking about you being his cute little assistant…
simon wearing black slacks and black button up shirts…
silver rings and… hear me out… a silver chain…
arms, chest and legs are covered in tattoos…
you organise all of his meetings, make sure his files are organised, arrange his flights and hotels when he needs to travel for ‘business’…
owns a club where he conducts shady meetings in the vip lounge…
still wears the mask all the time, only a handful of people have seen his face…
people are terrified of him… you’ve heard all the stories of all the nasty and violent things he’s done to people who fuck him over…
you’ve watched him petrify his men when they come to him with problems…
cussing them out and screaming at them for being so damn incompetent and to get the fuck out of his face before he pulls his brass knuckles out…
imagine… simon… with brass knuckles…
simon has never been unkind to you… not once…
even when you make mistakes and you look at him with glossy doe eyes, apologising profusely…
he just gives you a gruff, “s’alright, lovie. didn’t do it on purpose did ya?”
how could he ever get mad at his pretty assistant who always makes sure he has eaten and makes his tea exactly how he likes it…
how could he ever get mad when you smile so softly at him when you greet him everyday…
giving him a gentle, “good morning, mr riley…” everyday whilst he slyly checks out your ass in the tight black skirt you were wearing…
so how else is he supposed to react when his head bartender, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish begins flirting with you every time you stop by the club to give something to simon…
is he supposed to stand there like some sort of idiot whilst soap talks about how pretty your hair looks today, and how you should let him take you out for a drink sometime, or when he looks down your shirt with little to no shame…
he’s fuming when he realises that you didn’t jot down any of the important notes from his meeting because you were too busy smiling and blushing at that idiot behind the bar…
so he decides to call you over to his penthouse for a ‘job chat’ as he called it…
you use your key to get into simon’s big luxurious home and you see him sat on his sleek black sofa, legs spread wide with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other…
“good evening, mr riley… I hope I’m not late-“…
“sit.” is all simon says when he cuts you off…
you sit down in silence and watch as simon finishes his drink and stands to pour himself another…
“I like to think I’m a fair boss when it comes to you, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asks
“of course, sir… I hope I haven’t-“
“I don’t make you work unreasonable hours, I make sure you’re driven to and from work, I pay you well, I’ve never yelled or been disrespectful towards you. Is that fair to say, love?”
You nod your head, gulping nervously…
“so, how do you think it feels when my assistant decides to ignore her duties to flirt with another man?”
you look up at simon through your lashes… you can’t tell if he’s jealous or genuinely upset with you…
“mr riley… please, forgive me… I’ll work extra hard to prove-“
simon walks up to you, gripping your jaw tightly to get you to stop talking…
“I think there’s another way that pretty little mouth can apologise to me, don’t you, lovie?”
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nexusnyx · 1 year
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imagine being loved by me
#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 6 — The night we said goodbye. [“This is harder than I thought it’d be.”] [2.5k]
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— joel miller x f!reader — a/n: this is mostly fluff and angst, hence the lack of warnings. i hope you guys enjoy this even though there's no smut. there are a lot of feelings to make up for that? anyway, i just wanted to imagine being loved by Joel (in the given canon circumstances) and this is what I came up with. enjoy <3
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part two →
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"Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don't even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn't mine: it's me," you stop there, uncertain and nervous for more than one reason. "You want me to go on?"
Joel only grunts beneath you, and the palm he has wrapped around your calf starts rubbing there. He's a man of very few words — always has been — but you recognize his cues. Go on, the circles on your skin say. And — "I like it a lot when you read," he speaks, startling you for a second. "'s nice."
Three years since you've been doing this — years, and this is the night Joel chooses to speak his mind.
You grit your teeth and put on a smile, no matter how much it aches to do so. "Look at you, borrowing Pessoa's ability to use words 'n all," you tease.
Joel pinches your inner thigh — a warning.
You take one of your hands out of the book to poke his side — I'm not scared of you. Never was. Never could be.
Even if he's about to break your heart.
You continue reading.
He keeps on drinking it in, and you wonder not for the first time if Joel hears a word that comes out of his mouth or if this is just white noise for him.
I like it a lot when you read.
Inside your chest there's a special place saved only for the things Joel gives you as a gift.
There's no space for material things in the world you live in now. Being a man of very few words, you learned how to read Joel Miller from the moment you met him — a useful skill, one that came in handy over the past few years. People misread him a lot. Mostly because he allowed them to; sometimes because he wanted it that way.
They thought Joel was gruff. Callused.
You knew better.
Joel's body language never lied.
He gifted you things that way — a shrug of his shoulders that hid the fathom of a smile creeping up his face. His furrowed brows pierced together whenever someone spoke in louder tones in your presence. The ghost of his hand hovering over your back in between meetings, or the way he never looked you in the eye before kissing you.
All of them signs. All of them a way for him to communicate.
That was funny. I don't like their tone. I've got your six.
I can't let you see within me.
Joel might as well be an open book.
When Tess introduced the both of you, she said, "Just don't gain expectations. He's like us — lost everything. But he's a decent man, which is more than we can say about half of the people that made it."
A decent man was an understatement.
He was everything and then some in between.
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Joel kept it simple when telling you that he and Tess had to leave.
Neither one of them owed you explanations, but they gave you one either way. The three of you ran something together — an illegal, dangerous, and fragile something, but it was yours. Built it from your hands.
They claimed you were the brains.
"You gotta stay," Joel stated. Not a request, and nothing in his eyes that said this is open for conversation. "Marlene gave us very little info. We'll try to make it back as soon as we can."
The implicate we don't know if we'll make it back was there.
You never missed the unspoken words.
"Okay," you agreed, because there was nothing else for you to do.
Tess had left with the kid. She hugged you, giving you the full list of contacts that would be seeing you for things, and said, "Take care of yourself" in the way she always did.
Joel stayed behind to collect what he needed, and because he said a day wouldn't make a difference.
Was it over-confident on your part to allow the fluttering in your chest to take full form after seeing him drop his things on your hardwood floor and ask you to go for a walk? Was it wishful thinking to know he was stealing moments?
The familiar sight of his back gives you comfort as you follow him.
That's the way it's always been — you always knew that one day, you'd see this for the last time.
Maybe it's a small mercy that they're leaving.
It's been years—much longer than you initially thought you'd have, much longer than you prayed for after the first night Joel knocked on your bedroom door seeking the comfort he saw in your eyes you were dying to give him, much longer than you dreamed you would have amidst all the chaos.
He walks through the broken gate and keeps the wire lifted for you to pass.
Those things — the little things no one pays attention to.
"Thanks," you smile at him.
He hums as an answer and keeps walking by your side until you're both on the open field. After checking the area, Joel lays down with a grunt, patting the grass next to him.
That's when you started reading.
He just pulls out the book from his backpack and hands it to you.
Read for me, please.
"From where we left off, or you want me to go back a few?" Sometimes, Joel fell asleep mid-chapter. He liked when you went back a few so he never missed a thing.
He shakes his head. "I was listenin'," he lets you adjust yourself on the tree, and lays with his head on his backpack, pulling your legs over his body. Cradling your calf in his palms. "Go on."
So you do.
The sky is losing its light by the time Joel takes his arm out of his eyes, and puts a hand in front of the pages.
You bookmark it, even if he'll never hear the end of it.
For some reason, you stay quiet with him.
Usually, the silence is filled with you — your ramblings, questions about the world from before, silly musings that he indulges in listening to.
There's something tragic about being alive nowadays.
It's not really living — it's this. Reading between the lines, and claiming your stomach is satisfied because of the crumbs.
Joel's hand caressing your skin was a whole meal.
His eyes on you, above everything else, were like water.
When he speaks, it's gruff. "You gonna take care of yourself while I'm gone, right?"
If one day you held back, today is not it. "I will. Can't undo all your hard work."
He frowns, "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, c'mon, Joel. It's just us. You and I both know I'd never be alive if it weren't for you and Tess."
"Bullshit. You're the—"
"Brains, I know," you interrupt. "But without the brawn, the brains can't make it that far."
He scoffs at that, and you realize your mistake only when the words are out. "Think we both know nature said that ain't the case anymore."
"Stupid nature," you curse without any heat, and it works. Joel's lip twitches, itching for a smile. "All it's good for is being gorgeous."
"Hm. That'd be you."
Well. They aren't the first nice words Joel's ever said to you, but they make up an even bigger space than everything else. The little box in your chest engraved with J.M. is blanketed in those three little words, and judging by the way he ducks his chin and looks down, Joel noticed his slip up a heartbeat too late.
"Are you gonna take care of yourself?" you ask, nudging his side.
Joel sits up before he answers, taking the place next to you. Then, he spreads his legs and pats the ground between them, and you take the invitation.
Sitting with your back to his chest and his arms around you is your favorite place to be, and something clutches at your throat at the realization this might be the last time.
"I always do," he finally answers.
Your throat is tight, so you place both hands over his arms and pull them tighter around you. "Good," your voice drops to a whisper. "Can't let stupid nature have you."
"She gets us all in the end."
"I know that. I meant before your due time," you insist.
Joel's only half-listening. When he starts rubbing his nose on your hair, tracing the outline of your ears, that means his attention is divided. "How d'you know when's one's due time?"
"Hell if I know. But I know it's not now."
"Yes, ma'am," he plants a kiss on your neck, and you forget words for a while.
Joel always knew how to do that.
He kissed you awake, and sometimes, he kissed you to sleep.
It was common for the two of you to just sit and exist in silence. In a world where there wasn't much space for anything — not for words, or feelings, or relationships, or growth — having this was out of the curve. Having comfort.
He never tensed around you.
When it's just the two of you, Joel's body is the most relaxed; whether it's due to your hands squeezing his muscles or the way you run your palms through his skin to bring him back to himself—he's at ease.
Laid back, shoulders slack. He keeps on leaving kisses across your neck and nape, and you keep your eyes closed, enjoying the proximity. Your nails run through his forearms, and eventually, Joel just stops there in the crook of your neck, breathing slowly.
He asks, "D'you mind if I take your bandana? The purple one?"
Your favorite bandana. His 'lucky charm', as he'd called it once. "No, you can have it."
"You ain't gonna miss it?"
I'll miss you, Joel. A piece of cloth makes no difference in my life. "You need the good luck charm more than me."
"Is that so?"
You scoff, "I'm not the one walking head-first into danger." Craning your neck to look at his face, you lean your head on his shoulder. Joel's face is impassive as always, aside from the little pinch between his brows. "It's your good luck charm, isn't it?"
"It is," he replies, faster than you're used to. A smile grows back on your face. "What?"
"Nothing," you shake your head. "Just — didn't think you'd ever say that again."
He shrugs his shoulders. "'s the truth."
"What made it lucky?"
Joel takes a second with that one. His hand around your upper body finds the collar of your shirt, and he plays with it. He's nervous, and you have no idea why. He shrugs as he says, "Dunno."
Bullshit. "Hmm — something tells me you do."
"Yeah?" he's smiling now.
"Yup," you press, popping the 'p'. Joel stops fighting his smile, and you want to kiss him, so you do. Most of the time, you use restraints around him. Now is not the time for restraint. "Tell me," you plea.
He sighs, the smile still on his face. "That first time I was trying to find alternative routes in and out of the QZ, remember?"
"Yeah."
"So — I'd lost my way. Some Clickers found me and I had to run. Lost my shit—dropped some of the stuff in my bag. I only found my way back 'cause two days later I tried the bridge over the place I got lost at initially and — there it was." Joel's fingertips are tracing your collarbones, and you realize now his body around you is the only thing keeping you from a collapse. "I saw that ugly thing from far, far away."
It makes you laugh — of course he's going to play it cool, make it less of what it is.
You get it. If you had to talk about the things that brought you a sense of home, the only thing that came to mind was the smell of Joel's deodorant mixed with the innate smell of him.
You hide your laugh in his chest, and Joel's hands come up to your nape and the back of your head.
The hurt bubbles up with his touch — you want to drown in your own tears, but he's still here and that would be going before your due time.
"Please be safe." It's rare for you to use the space between the lines, but sometimes you have to.
Please be safe because I need you. Because you've grown inside me. Because the smell of you are vines covering every inch of my ribcages, because every time I wake up and you're lying next to me I remember why we're humans, because Fernando Pessoa might have been right that we possess nothing, but what I am is someone who still knows love.
"I will." Joel heard it all. He pulls your head back to look into your eyes and you see it in his — through the guarded walls of his soul, you get a peak at the man who worries. Who always brings you coffee, who never allowed you to go on dangerous runs, who trusts you to keep his radio codes in case his brother calls for him. You're the lighthouse, he once said. Joel's hand keeps making a mess of your hair, and he looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately, he huffs. "This is harder than I thought it'd be."
"Of course it is," you laugh. "I'm the only one that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee. Or at least, one that you like."
That's when he kisses you.
Because it's true. Not the cup of coffee — Tess can do that as well, even if she never does, but the reality that you're the only one that can and wants to.
The only one who's allowed it.
Living in a world that has no space for living is difficult, but Joel manages to fit the whole human experience in the span of a kiss and some touches.
He's kept you safe, and guarded, and gave you blinks and pieces of the man he once was in return for all that you've given him.
He loves quietly, and kisses hard, and protects with every cell in his body — Joel still loves, even if the word's been burned out of his tongue when he held the most precious life known to him in his arms.
He loves, and you feel it, and you'll miss it.
Joel pulls back with a promise in his eyes that he will be back.
If he isn't, you'll be a moving lighthouse. You'll find him.
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☆ join my writing challenge ☆
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aizawasbrazybaby · 3 months
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❥𓂃𓏧Freak Like Me
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𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)
𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)
🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.
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Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.
And holy fuck…
A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.
“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”
“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”
A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”
A demand.
Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.
“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.
“Doctor,” you corrected.
“What?”
“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”
He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.
“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”
Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.
Good fucking God.
“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.
“No, officer.”
“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”
Holy hell he was close.
You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.
Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”
Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.
“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”
His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.
“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.
Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”
“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.
He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.
“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.
Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.
Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay
“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”
Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.
That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?
“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”
He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”
“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.
“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.
Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?
He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.
Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”
His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.
Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?
“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.
Who is this? Where’s ___??
“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.
Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.
He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.
“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.
“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.
“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”
He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.
“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.
“I’m alright.”
“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.
“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.
“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.
“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.
Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.
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aanoia · 10 months
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Dying
Poly!marauders x reader, James Potter x reader, Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black x reader
Summary; the marauders had known their girlfriend smoked to dissipate the pain from her abusive family. They just didn't know how bad it could, and would get
Words; 1,400+
Warnings; serious TW, mentions of abuse, toxic asf family, drug abuse, weed, alcohol, whiskey, underage drinking and smoking, substance abuse, self harm, cuts, abuse (ish?), depression (not mentioned but apparent), seriously bad mental health
If you are easily triggered I advise you do not read this as it covers very serious topics.
I will be making a part 2 with a happy ending, because they exist and you deserve one, no matter how deep you've dug yourself into a hole.
Pt. 2
If you are struggling with mental health issues and need help call or text 988 to get in touch with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. If you are struggling with substance abuse and or mental health and need help call 1-800-662-4357 to get on the phone with an employee of SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. If you are being abused or neglecting by family members or someone else and need help call 800-799-7233 to get on the phone with some from the National Domestic Violence Hotline.
If you need help please reach out. Whether it be to one of the resources above, a trusted adult or friend, or me. I cannot speak for others around you but I can for me and I am here for every single one of you. You can talk to me no matter how small, large, serious, "dumb" ("" bc no problem is actually dumb), no matter what. I will sit and listen to you for hours. Almost everything mentioned in this story are things I have experienced. Abuse. Self harm. Substance abuse (smoking and drinking). And pushing away the people who want to help. I understand and will listen. You matter, and you are loved. It will get better, I promise. You can take my word for it. I love all of you, no matter who you are, and I beg you to reach out of you need someone to help bare the weight the world has given you. I'm here for you, and I'm proud of you for being here today, no matter how hard to was.
You are not alone.
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When James, Sirius, and Remus first found out their girlfriend was a borderline stoner, they seemed fine with it for the most part. James was indifferent, believing she wasn’t consuming a dangerous amount. Sirius was impressed and baffled, he spent weeks trying to figure out how she snuck the drug into Hogwarts, which had a strict policy against the use of substances. Every once in a while Sirius even joined Y/n in a smoking session. Remus, however, seemed to be the only one who was slightly worried, he knew all about unhealthy coping mechanisms and how addictive they are, but he chose to trust his girlfriend and left it alone, something he felt very guilty about later on.
Everything changed after the summer before sixth year. The four had kept in frequent touch, mourning over the fact that they couldn’t find a time to get together. Mid August Y/n had stopped responding to letters sent by her boyfriends, which worried them immensely. And when she arrived at platform 9 ¾, looking sickly pale and high out of her mind, they knew something was wrong. 
Stubborn as usual, Y/n proclaimed she was fine. Having lied and said that this was her first time doing any illegal substances, which includes alcohol and other drugs, in weeks, and she was just enjoying it. Each of the boys had a pit in their stomach, their girlfriends usually cheerful aura completely gone, seeming to have faded over the summer.
Sirius was the first to notice the problem with your smoking. He took into account the changes in your stash when he would join you every once in a while, the amount you had from one session into another completely decimating your lie about only smoking once or twice a week. 
Remus was the one who noticed your drinking problem. He had invited you on a study date with just him, James and Sirius being busy with quidditch practice, and you had showed up late. He didn’t mind, knowing you weren’t the most punctual person, but what he did mind was the strong scent of alcohol you had attempted to cover up with a spell. It hadn’t worked.
Now, poor oblivious James was the one to uncover the self harm scars on his beautiful girlfriend's body. It had been a rare time where you had decided to hang out with the boy, as you had been pulling away from the three at an alarming rate. So, James decided to make the most of it, not knowing the next time this would happen. His way of making the most of it was laying down in bed, bodies pressed up against each other and your chest steadily rose and fell. He had fallen into a light sleep before he was woken up as you adjusted your position, throwing your arm out to the side. He looked at you with a tired smile, grateful for this moment as his gaze traveled up your arm. His smile fell as his heart dropped. When you had stretched your arm out the sleeves of your jumper had ridden up your wrist, revealing the angry red cuts protruding from your skin. James felt tears prick his eyes, not knowing what to do.
Today was a particularly rough day for Y/n. She had received a letter from her parents, informing her that they wish she was never their daughter, and that she would find some creative way to die to rid them of their burden of a disgraceful daughter. It was no exaggeration to say she was out of it. Anyone with any common sense could tell as she stumbled through the Great Hall, smelling greatly of whiskey and weed, and anyone with a good nose (Remus, due to his furry problem, and Sirius, due to his furry gift) could sense the metallic smell of blood coating her skin.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Remus mumbled, standing up from his spot at the table, James and Sirius looking up quizzically. “I’m over this. We need to talk to her. Now.” He said and the boys nodded, standing up with him and walking to the girl. Sirius gently touched her shoulder, leading her out as she made a face of disgust at his closeness, causing his heart to twang. 
She had been so mean lately, and it was slowly shattering the boys’ heart, however, it was affecting Sirius the most. He missed his girl. The one who always cheered him up and provided him bucket loads of support when he was thrown to the curb and disowned.
They carefully led the girl into the boys’ empty dorm, and the three were thankful Peter decided to eat breakfast this morning instead of sleeping in. Y/n sat on the bed, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a shiny silver flask.
Remus scoffed and grabbed the flask from her hands, “Fucking no, Y/n.”
Anger flashed across the girls face, “The fuck is your problem?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
He waved the flask in front of her face angrily, “This shit is! And the weed! And, baby,” His voice softened. “We know you’ve been cutting. Why won’t you let us in?”
She scoffed and stood up, snatching the flask from the boys hand, “Because it’s my fucking mind and you guys have no right to pretend you deserve to know what’s going on in it.” It was Sirius’ turn to scoff and Y/n looked over with raised eyebrows. “What, got a problem, Black?” She asked again.
“Yeah, I’ve got a fucking problem. You’re being a bitch.” He said angrily.
“Excuse you? I’m being a bitch?” She took a step closer. “Says fucking you, Sirius. The only bitch here is you. With your endless manipulation and fucking lies!”
“Okay, you need to calm down.” Remus said before Sirius could speak.
The only sound that could be heard was Y/n’s loud laughter. It lasted a moment before abruptly stopping as she threw the flask down and neared Remus. 
She placed her hands on his chest, smoothing down a wrinkle, “You guys are the ones freaking out when I’m.” She pushed him back, his eyes widened. “Fucking.” Push. “Fine.” His back hit the wall and James, who had been silent the entire time finally stepped in between the two, anger covering his features.
“Back off. We have done nothing but love you! We don’t deserve this shit, Y/n. You don’t have to tell us everything but a simple fucking explanation is due! Even if you won’t give us that you have no right, no right, to lay your hands on us, and I will not put up with this bullshit.” He said and it was silent. The boys held their breaths, hoping James’ speech got through to the Y/n as her and James had a staring contest.
Y/n smirked, “Look at you. The little bitch finally comes out of his shell, and spews utter bullshit.” She said flatly, moving to grab her flask and her bag which she had previously set on the bed. She walked to the door and paused, “We’re over, by the way. I’m leaving your sorry asses.” And she walked out.
The moment the door shut James' body shook with silent sobs and Remus wrapped his arms around the boy, resting his head in between his shoulder blades. Sirius joined the hug, squeezing tightly as a few stray tears of his own left his eyes. 
The three stood there, hugging each other tightly as they cried in each other's arms. They had no choice now but to watch the girl they loved most slowly kill herself, for a reason unknown to them.
Unbeknownst to them, the girl slid down the backside of the door, hand covering her mouth to silence her sobs. She knew it was getting bad and she knew those boys cared about her and wanted to help and she fucking pushed them away, afraid they would turn out to be like her parents. Cruel and abusive. She regretted leaving the moment the door slammed shut, her mind immediately sobering up as she realized what she had done. She just lost the three most important people in her life, people who loved her, if they still could after her cruel words.  In that moment she realized the most terrifying thing. The thing that haunted her nightmares and fueled her addictions. In all her attempts to cut her parents from her life and forget about them. She had become them.
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frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months
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| ❤️ | The Headless Horseman | ❤️ |
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| Pairing | boyfriend!woozi x fem!reader w/ a cameo by fanboy hoshi
| Summary | Your secret identity as a street racer is exposed when your boyfriend's best friend, a superfan of yours, unknowingly drags him to one of your races.
| Genre | fluff w/ an eyedrop of angst
| Word Count | 2.4k
| Warnings | drinking, kissing, general adult situations
| A/N | @rainisawriter put in a request for this specific storyline and theme ages ago so love you forever for waiting 10 years for me to get my life together and finish it. I know you wanted something fun so I went for it. Hope you like it!
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“Come in. Sit. Sit. Sit” Hoshi insists, gesturing toward the couch he’s had Woozi trapped on for the past five minutes. Grabbing your beer from the coffee table, you flop down on the couch beside Woozi, throwing your legs across his lap. “What’s his deal?” you tilt your head to whisper into your boyfriend’s ear. Woozi wraps an arm around you, bringing you into one of his infamously cozy hugs. “It’s the street racing thing again. Something about a headless houseman.” “Horseman!” Hoshi corrects, pacing the floor in front of you.
This is as excited as you’ve ever seen him and, as amusing as it is, he’ll set fire to your carpet if he keeps pacing like this. “Alright, alright. Take a breath and tell us about this Headless Hou..." "Horse, baby” Woozi whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. “Horseman.” Hoshi stops in his tracks, waiting for one of you to poke fun at him. When neither of you does, he sits down on the edge of the coffee table, leaning in a bit like an older brother about to torture his siblings with a scary story. 
“Okay, so, she’s…” “She?” Woozi interrupts, “I thought it was a man.” “Yes, she!” Hoshi continues, “She was the best street racer in the underground. They called her the Headless Horseman because she always wore a helmet to hide her identity. No one and I mean no one has ever been able to figure out who she is.” For a fleeting moment, the playful expression on your face turns to one of panic. It’s a blink and you miss it kind of panic. The guys blinked. They missed it. But your sweaty palms and racing heart didn’t.
“So...what? You plan on solving the mystery?” The question comes out sharper than you intended. “You’ve always been good at things like that” you add, attempting to soften the impact. “Oh,” he smiles, surprised but flattered, “Thank you but no. I’ve tried though. She was my favorite for a long time. Still is. I’ve never seen anyone drive like that before. It got to the point where most guys hated racing her because she was unbeatable.”
“What happened?” Woozi asks, more invested in the tale than he anticipated. 
“Hmm?”
“You keep saying ‘was’ like something happened.” 
Hoshi’s eyes widen, “Yeah, well, uh, she disappeared.”
“Disappeared like died?” 
“Disappeared like into thin air. Some people thought she died. Others thought she just quit but there’s been talk...” “Of?” you ask, fiddling with the rose quartz ring dangling from the silver chain around your neck. It was a gift from Woozi for your birthday that you never take off for anything. You reach for it whenever you need comfort and it's never failed you even once. “A comeback at tonight's race. That something happened to bring her back and now the Headless Horseman will ride again.”
The way that he tells it, this really is starting to feel like a horror story. Especially for you. The only one here with something to hide. “I was thinking of going to check the race out and I thought...” “No” you and Woozi groan in unison. “No?” “No” Woozi repeats, “I’m not going with you to an illegal street race to chase an urban legend. What if it gets raided? My baby’s too pretty for jail.” You can’t help but blush, kissing him on the cheek, “No, you’re too pretty for jail.” Woozi starts to blush too and the overload of cuteness makes Hoshi want to vomit.
“You guys never wanna do anything fun” he pouts, “It’s one race.” Getting up from the couch, you stretch your limbs, letting out a yawn. “The threat of jail time aside, I’m exhausted so I’m heading to bed. Why don’t you boys go find something safe to do?” You glance back and forth between the two of them, making it clear that your question had, in fact, been an order. “Yes, ma’am” Hoshi mumbles, forcing a smile when you pinch his cheeks.
You lean in to give Woozi a goodnight kiss and his arms are around you again, nearly dragging you back down onto the couch. He’d come crawl into bed with you if he could but he’d feel bad leaving his best friend hanging and you’d never ask him to do that. “Goodnight, my love” you sing, skipping off to the bedroom. “Goodnight!” Woozi shouts down the hall, his eyes lingering where you once were. Hoshi takes your spot on the couch, batting his eyelashes at Woozi, “Goodnight, my love.”
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A part of you, every part of you if you're being honest with yourself, feels bad for keeping this from your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. Your partner in crime. You share everything. Everything but this. There was once a time when racing was the only way that you could feel alive. When you weren’t behind the wheel, burning down the winding roads the local cops were too corrupt to monitor, life felt empty. If the only thrill you could get had to come from risking your life you were willing to do it but falling for Woozi changed all of that.
With him, you felt genuine love for the first time. He made colors brighter, melodies sweeter, and food more flavorful. You finally had something that made you love your life without putting it on the line so you quit and never looked back. At least not until an old friend came asking you for a favor. Keeping your identity a secret was no small feat. Your success relied heavily upon the few women you'd grown close to on the scene.
One in particular, a fellow racer, was as sweet as could be but had a gambling streak that got her into trouble more often than not. Her most recent run-in was with a new racer. One just as good as you were. Some might say better. She put her car up against his and lost it. A man with an ego impossible to satisfy, he would’ve happily raced her again just to see her suffer. There was no way she’d beat him though, she knew that, but you could. You could’ve turned her down. Maybe you should’ve but it's too late for second thoughts now. 
Your opponent’s heavily modified muscle car screeches to a halt beside yours at the starting line. He winks at you, blowing a kiss, “I’ve heard a lot about you sweet thing. You’ve got quite the reputation. Too bad I’m gonna have to ruin it.” The roar of the crowd, hundreds of people gathered around for the return of a legend, drowns out whatever he says next. “Hey!” your friend shouts, tapping the hood of your car. When you turn to her she jiggles your seatbelt, and checks that your helmet’s secure, “Kick his ass.”
The flag girl dips between the cars, taking her position just beyond the starting line. You grasp the ring around your neck for good luck before taking one last look at the smug face of your opponent. Kick his ass? Not a problem. 
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Pushing his way to the back of the crowd, Woozi holds his phone to his head and listens as it rings once, twice, three times. Hoshi sneaks up on him, snatching the phone away. “What are you doing?” Hoshi asks, ending the call and holding the phone up out of Woozi’s reach. He’s tempted to try to grab it but, with this height difference, it’d be a waste of energy. “I told her we were going to Mingyu’s place. I have to let her know there was a change of plans.” “Oh my god, you’re so whipped.” “At least I’m not single” Woozi snaps, “Now give me my phone!”
The tearing of rubber against pavement sends clouds of smoke into the night sky, drawing the immediate attention of everyone around them. “Look, she won’t care that you came with me. She’s not like that but she’ll kill you if you wake her up. So just relax and have fun” Hoshi begs, “I’ll tell her it was all my fault. I promise.” As much as Woozi hates to admit it, Hoshi’s made several valid points, the most important of all that you’d rip his head off if he woke you up. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Yes!” Hoshi yells, dragging him back to the front of the crowd just in time to see the cars disappear down the road. At first, Woozi struggles to get comfortable. Hanging out at the edge of an abandoned highway after midnight wasn’t on his 2023 bucket list for fun things to do. As time goes on though, he finds himself having fun, knocking back drinks, and meeting some of Hoshi’s other friends. The adrenaline that pumps through the drivers during lap after lap bleeds into the audience, into him, and he understands now why Hoshi gets so pumped to come to these things.
As the end of the final lap approaches one car closes in on the other. It’s so close, we’re talking splitting hairs close, and then it’s not at all. The Headless Horseman picks up an unreal amount of speed, flying past the other car and ripping through the finish line. A celebration erupts amongst the masses who bet in favor of the Horseman while the few who didn’t prepare for financial ruin. It doesn’t matter to you either way. You’re so high off the thrill of being behind the wheel again that everything around you exists only as a blur of color.
As you make your way out of the car, smiling faces come to congratulate you. Shaking your hand. Hugging you. Patting you on the back. You rush them along, desperate to find yourself an isolated corner where you can get this helmet off before you suffocate. “Horseman!” Hoshi cheers, cutting in front of you before you have time to escape. It can’t be. You must be hallucinating. It really is too hot under this helmet. “So nice to meet you. You were amazing! This is my friend---” he rambles, pulling Woozi over by the collar, “It’s his first time.”
In the old days, the mafia used to put cement blocks on dead bodies before they threw them in the ocean to make sure they didn’t resurface before they became fish food. The sight of your boyfriend standing in front of you makes you want to run but the invisible cement bricks hardened around your ankles won’t let you. You’re fish food. “Hi” Woozi waves, his cheeks rosy from one too many drinks, “You did really well out there.” “I, uh, thanks,” you say in a high-pitched voice, attempting to conceal your own.
Like magic, the weight lifts from your ankles and you start to make a run for it only you aren’t moving. Something else is holding you back, a hand around your wrist. Woozi’s hand.  “Where’d you get that?” he asks, eyeing the ring dangling from your neck. You pull away again. It’s no use. He won’t let up. Hoshi takes a closer look at you, the gears turning until it clicks, “No way. I can't believe it. This is just like in those spy movies. Are you a spy? Wait, don't tell me! No, tell me!”
Ignoring his best friend's enthusiasm, Woozi digs his phone out of Hoshi’s pocket and dials your number. There’s nothing you can do besides stand by as the ringtone you personalized for him sounds in your jacket pocket. The tightness in your chest is unbearable. This is how you die. You pop your helmet off, tossing it to the ground. Woozi pours his drink out beside it, his brain too scrambled to add another sip of vodka into the mix, “I’m too drunk for this.” 
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Waking up the next morning you find the bed empty and your house quiet enough to hear a pin drop. You’d come home separately last night. You in your car and Woozi in Hoshi’s. Actually, when you stop to think about it, you aren’t sure Woozi came home at all. From the looks of things, he hasn’t. His keys aren’t on the nightstand and his shoes aren’t by the front door. The usual scent of him cooking Saturday morning breakfast doesn’t fill the apartment and… 
“Aah!” you scream, tripping and falling onto something soft. Well, someone. The body of your severely hungover boyfriend is stretched out on the kitchen floor, keys in hand and shoes still on his feet. Carefully rolling off of him, you make no attempt at getting up from the floor. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling as vulnerable as you ever have. “Where am I?” he mumbles, wiping the drool from his cheek. He lifts his head up, squinting to look around the kitchen before lying back down.
“You okay? You need anything?” you ask, knowing how tough hangovers are on him. “From you or the Horseman?” “Really? Is that how we’re handling this?” “Last I checked I wasn’t the one living a double life.” You can’t even argue with him. He’s right. If you found out he’d hidden something from you, no matter how small, you’d be irritated too. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sitting up, you bury your face in your hands, letting a symphony of frustration spill out. “It’s a part of me I wanted to bury. I only dug it up to help a friend” you admit, “I was afraid if you knew it might change how you see me.”
Woozi sits up, releasing a few pained groans of his own, “Change how I see you? Nothing could ever change how I see you. I need you to trust me enough to believe that.” “I do. I just…I get in my own head sometimes and I don’t know. I’m so sorry.” Woozi kisses you, the lingering sweetness of some late-night snack he must’ve eaten coating your lips. “It’s okay. Apology accepted…under one condition.” You perk up, prepared to do whatever it takes to make things right, “Whatever you want. Just say the word.”
Leaning back against the refrigerator, he makes space for you to sit between his legs, “Tell me everything from the start.” “Everything?” you ask, sliding over to him, “Well, it all started when…” You lay your head on his chest, gearing up to spill every detail of your origin story, only to be met with the sound of light snoring. You contemplate waking him up but decide he’s in need of some rest and, with Hoshi no doubt on his way to make you tell this same story all over again, you let yourself drift off with him, figuring you do too if you plan to survive that.
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obxdude · 2 months
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New Phase (Part 4)
-—Masterlist—-
-—Tags: Rafe x GN!Reader, JJ x GN!Reader, Kook!Reader
-—Series Summary: When JJ cheats on you, you lose it and decide to abandon the Pogues for your old life.
-—Warnings: Implied Underage and Public Drinking and Drug Use (weed), Argument, Drama
-—A/N: sorry for the late update! life happened. i also forgot my initial plan for this fic so oops?
word count ~1.3k
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After spending the last two weeks exclusively with Rafe, and sometimes Kelce and Topper, getting a text from the Pogues was shockingly out of the ordinary. Especially a text asking to hang out, without JJ, which they specified. Accepting their request is harder than you would like, but you do anyways.
Driving down to the boneyard feels foreign to you now, but, as soon as you begin walking from your car to the distant figures of the Pogues, it feels like home again. You really did miss this—miss them.
It almost feels like nothing has really changed.
"Hi!" you call out to your friends.
A chorus of greetings ring out in response. It takes you back to hot summer days spent drinking cold beers and jumping in the water whenever the sun got too harsh.
"It's nice to see you again," Pope says. "We missed you."
You smile. "Yeah me too, but at least we're together now," you say, sitting next to them a beach blanket. "So, what's the plan for today?"
"Drink, swim, light up—basically what we always do," Kie answers.
"Sounds good to me," you reply, laying down on the blanket, your arms behind your head. "Let's make the most of it."
-—✯—-
You spend the rest of the afternoon goofing off with the Pogues. Swimming, and surfing was the main choice, but y'all would come back to the blanket and rest every once in awhile. Thankfully the Heywards gave Pope some food to bring for the day, so there wasn't a moment of hunger that wasn't quickly resolved. God, you forgot how much fun the Pogues were. Not that beach days with Rafe and the guys aren't fun, but this is so much more laid back.
While laying on the blanket staring up and the blue sky while you all rested, you say, "So, what have y'all been up to?"
"Well," John B starts, sitting up which everyone else follows. "A lot of hiking really. Exploring the OBX some more, getting into trouble-"
"A lot of trouble," Kie interjects. "I swear we've had to run from the cops at least ten times. If only John B and J—," she pauses before continuing, "would stop committing illegal acts for fun."
"Overall, the same old-same old. But, it's easy to guess what we do ‘cause we never change. But you've definitely not been doing the same shit as usual, so fill us in. What have you been doing?" John B finishes.
You sigh, you didn't want this to start again. "You already know about how I've been hanging out with Rafe, and that's pretty much it," you answer, shrugging. "It's usually just us, but sometimes Topper or Kelce will join. We do a lots of beach days, movie nights, that sort of thing. It's really nothing special."
The Pogues frown. "But, you don't like him? Right?" Sarah asks.
"I mean... No? He's not terrible, but I don't think I'm ready for another relationship. We're just friends for now," you assure. But her comment got you thinking, do you like Rafe? Your head flashes back to that first beach day, and his behavior wasn't unattractive, if anything it was flirtatious and you liked it.
Sarah nods. And Kie adds, "We just don't want you to get hurt. Rafe can go a little...crazy sometimes."
"I understand that, but he's not a bad guy when you get to know him. He's done terrible things, even to us, but... I don't know. I think he's changing," you reply.
"I'm sorry, Y/n, but it's insane to think that someone like Rafe," Pope spits, "could ever change. Do you not remember how he's treated us? How's he's treated me?"
"I do remember, but he used to be my friend, which doesn't make any of what he did okay. But, right now he's kind of all I have," you answer, feeling annoyed that you have to justify your own choices to your friends.
"You have us, Y/n," Sarah says. "Anytime you need us, we'll be there."
"I don't want to be an ass, but honestly, will you? Because you didn't try to be there for me after JJ cheated on me. I was alone. The first time I saw y'all was a week later, and I know I told y'all that it would have been wrong to abandon him for me, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt," you retort, before sighing. "I'm sorry, it's just that you have to understand that JJ has known y'all the longest and he will always have y'all. It was easy to pick him, and I understand that, but you have no right to bash me for who I chose to spend my time with."
"Y/n you're our friend just as much as JJ is and we just want to look out for you and make sure you're making smart choices," John B says. "We want you to be okay."
"What makes you think that I'm not being smart? The fact that I'm hanging out with Rafe?"
"Not necessar—"
"Yes," Pope says, interrupting Kie. "I know it seemed like I was okay with it at first but I wasn't. I assumed that after a while his novelty would fade away when you remembered how much of a dick he is. I just can't understand how you can want to spend time with him and not us, including JJ. Rafe is a violent psychopath, can you blame me for being worried?"
"I get it, Pope, but I can make my own choices. If he ever changes, you will be the first to know and you can say 'I told you so'. Alright? But expecting me to want to hang out with JJ is unreasonable. Would you want to spend time with someone who broke your heart?" you defend. You did not want the evening to turn into this, but it was beginning to seem like they wanted to see you just so they could change your mind. You take a deep breath. "I love y'all but this friendship seems too complicated right now. You’re questioning my choices, and, I mean, y'all had to find a time that JJ was busy before you could even invite me—"
"Y/n that's not—" Sarah begins.
"It is, I haven't seen y'all in weeks and the two times that I have, you've specified that JJ wasn't with y'all. If I can't be around him and he's always around y'all, then I can't be around y'all. At least not for now," you say.
You stand up to leave, and at that moment John B looks over your shoulder at something. You turn around and in front of you is JJ.
"I can't believe you told me he wasn't coming," you say looking towards them expectantly. You were hoping that they would refute you, but Pope's eyes look down and you know that this wasn’t entirely an accident. “Wow. Okay, I get it. Thanks guys, this was fun but I’m leaving,” you scoff.
You turn back around, walking past JJ, and back to your car.
"Y/n, wait!" JJ calls, jogging towards you. “Please just hear me out. I’m so sorry—”
"No, I don't want to hear it. Go back to your friends," you respond, finally reaching your car. You turn one last time to look at him, shaking your head. “I thought I would be angrier when I saw you again, but I’m not, I just don’t care,” you sigh, “I don’t know you anymore JJ, and you sure as hell don’t know me. Leave me alone.”
Before JJ can respond, you tun around and get in your car. You drive away, leaving JJ standing on the edge of the sand and the Pogues watching from a distance.
As soon as you know they can’t see you, your facade drops and tears build in your eyes. You could not believe what they had done.
-—Part 5—-
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setsugekka · 1 year
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❥project d (m)
↳ With a nice enough guy who’s just a little too rough around the edges for your parents liking, and a best friend who put you up to him (albeit a tad unknowingly), surely things can’t possibly get more complicated for the local illegal street racing squad.
Except, between racing for pink slips and bragging rights, there’s Emperors leader, Jeong Yunho.
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kim hongjoong x fem!reader / jeong yunho x fem!reader — Initial D/street racing!au, unresolved romantic tension, exes to lovers, infidelity, angst, explicit sexual content [20.5k wc] cws: themes of smoking, drinking, & cheating throughout. the person getting cheated on is a scumbag!! mild physicality from a man to reader and more than mild physicality between two men ❱ light dom/sub dynamics in the beginning, penetrative sex (no barrier method), creampie, light choking, themes of possessiveness throughout, dirty talk, risky sex, public sex, oral sex (m).
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“Ignore it.”
A simple enough request to oblige as Hongjoong's hand stretches out and over your body towards the side of you where your phone resides, only conveniently tossed there out of haste upon things between the two of you getting the better of you.
History getting the better of you.
Two, three more vibrations of the call alert cycle before it finally quiets, the man next to you hums with his face pressed into the pillow just before turning to face you with a devilish grin — as if a man having just won a prize, of sorts.
Perhaps he had done just that, at least, in this moment in time.
“I can't ignore him forever,” you sigh, back against the mattress and staring up towards the dingy, unpainted ceiling of this particular hotel that you and Hongjoong had become all too accustomed to.
The scent of far-from-fresh linens and a mixture of cigarette and other such smoke cascading through the small room — far from allowed but in a place like this, and for the rate that it goes for, it's what you'd expect. Housekeeping will do what they can, but there's only so much.
It's clean enough, but more than that, it's private. Part of you wishes coming here with him made you hate yourself as much as you think it's supposed to, because maybe then you'd stop.
“He's my boyfriend, after all.”
“He's a fucking tool,” he groans, finally sitting up beneath a single layer of white sheet and reaching to his left off of the side of the bed for his pants — long since discarded and not long after the two of you had arrived, at that. You can only presume the man to be reaching for his cigarettes, and unsurprised when it's precisely what comes into your line of vision as he sits back with his back against the headboard to light it — you watch him, every movement he makes no matter how small or unimportant it may seem. Taking in the details of him: short, platinum bleached hair with his fingernails painted black — two or three chipped, from what you can tell — and most likely from working on his car at some point over the week. “Who cares what he thinks? When are you going to leave him, anyways?”
“It's not that simple,” you answer, under your breath and slightly dejected at the turn the conversation has taken.
Because you know that you should feel bad, and yet you don't, but the fact that you don't sort of does do the trick. You wonder how terrible one has to be to falter morally to such a degree.
“I care about him.”
“The fuck you do,” Hongjoong bites back with a snort through his nose, smoke pushing out and towards the sheet that remains pooled around his waist. “If you did, you sure as shit wouldn't be here right now.”
Rolling your eyes and turning from him finally, it's likely that he's right. Somewhere, somehow, surely that is the only logical explanation.
But as complicated as things may be with your boyfriend, they're just as, if not more so, with the man next to you.
Goodbye's are hard, it's half of the reason people do everything in their power to avoid them.
Even to their own detriment.
“Don't be mad at me,” he adds, noticing the way you pull your eyes from him. “You wouldn't be fucking your ex still if things we're all sunshine and roses back at home. That's just the facts.”
“Do you have to do this tonight?” you say with a groan, turning back and onto your side to face away from him. It's then that you feel Hongjoong stir from behind, putting his cigarette out into a beer bottle on the nightstand and settling back down lengthwise along the bed, with the flesh of his chest pressed against your bare back. With one hand of his trailing down the exposed flesh and settling at the small of your back as fingers curl up and around the dip of your hip, you sigh into the feeling of his touch, once again starkly aware of how undressed you are once again, and how this will likely result in him fucking you for the second time tonight.
“I miss you,” he whispers after a while, lips ghosting gently across your exposed shoulder as he plants kisses there between words. “Leave him.”
“And do what? get back together with you?” you answer suddenly, with a tad bit more snip than you had really intended, but feeling the way his fingernails begin to curl into the skin of your waist, you need not worry about the reception of the response.
Chances are, he probably likes it.
The words come out so quietly that you can barely even hear them over the sound of the long since ignored television, only really used to help drown out the pathetic sounds of you succumbing to this man once again. “Do whatever you want, just not him.”
It's a weird sense of foreplay, the way that the two of you engage in conversations about the man in question — your partner — always seeming to get Hongjoong riled up sexually in some sort of sick, twisted way that you can't quite fathom — possibly the possession, possibly some sense of having won something over the man every time you agree to meet him like this — two competitors who have long since been rivals for far too long, with too much bad blood and no end in sight, either.
So when you left Hongjoong, and shortly after started dating Yunho, it was a punch to the gut and the ego — seemingly only quelled by the joy of having you cum around his dick a couple of times a week unbeknownst to the other party.
Shifting slightly, as if wanting to maintain some air of innocence and coincidence to it all — pressing your behind back and against him only to find that what greets you is a familiar hardness — Hongjoong's kisses into your shoulder intensify, nips and suction against the flesh where he had previously been ever so innocuously been touching.
Giving into him never was difficult, you wonder if you'll ever have control over yourself with him.
Hand slipping down to position himself better against you, the whimper that leaves your lips as he presses back inside of you for the second time that night is pitiful — grin forming across his mouth as he hears the utterance of you once again allowing yourself full compliance for him — his hand comes back up to snake along your side as he gently rocks into you, first settling for a moment atop your breast to thumb over the nub before continuing the journey up and around your throat to hold there tightly as he picks up his pace with a grunt into your ear from behind.
“You're mine, right?” Words echoing from his mouth and into your ear from just next to it, your body involuntarily clenching down around him giving you away more than anything you could say ever could — Hongjoong squeezing tighter around your throat at the feeling of you submitting to him in all of the same ways that he's always liked, that you've always liked — a game the two of you would often play deep within the throes of your romantic relationship. “You always came the hardest when I acted like I owned you.”
“Joong—“ another pitiful whimper at the sound and feeling of him encompassing you, especially given that he's right in his assessment of you.
Hand leaving your throat and continuing up again, two fingers prying between your lips to press into your mouth and lie flat against your tongue, Hongjoong's pace into hastens, fucking you harder than even the time earlier in the night — obviously with something to prove, now — some sort of motivation behind his actions; jealousy, angry, hatred.
The animalistic desire to have and own and need, perhaps.
“He fuck you like I do?” he finally asks in spite of already knowing the answer. There's a reason you keep coming back. “Know everything you like the way I do? Make you cum as hard as I do?”
And with fingers shoved deep into your mouth you can only groan at the words as your body threatens to release you from the contempt of a building orgasm — Hongjoong surely feels it with the way he slows and stills deep inside of you with a whine from you.
“Didn't say you could cum yet, did I?”
It's all you can do to beg for it, grinding back and against him for any sense of friction that will hopefully tip you over the edge that he's not allowing for you. Hot breath scented like cheap beer and cigarettes pressed into the shell of your ear as he holds your body flush tight against his as if to now even allow you the ability to escape his grasp — not that you'd want to, or have any intention to — but rather for what it represents to him.
That yes, this is a game that the two of you engage in consensually, but perhaps deep down for him, a confession of sorts, as well.
Hongjoong pulls his hand from your lips to quickly wrap it against your throat again, ever so slowly withdrawing his cock from you and almost completely before delivering you back an even more tortuously slow drive back inside — so slow that you feel as though you can feel every dip and curve and bulge of his shaft against your walls — the two of you don't play like this so much anymore since the dissolving of your relationship, and Hongjoong's willingness to reintroduce it now feels pointed and a bit like a man rushing to grasp a hold of something that he feels as though he's losing completely.
The break up wasn't on bad terms, and certainly appeared far from devastating to Hongjoong from what you could tell. He did start drinking more, though, and racked up a hefty DUI about a week after.
“You wanna cum, baby?”
You nod quicker than you think the words finish leaving his mouth, much to his amusement. Hongjoong repeats yet another frustratingly slow drive into you as he sets the condition for your orgasm.
“Tell me whose it is,” he groans, the warm hug of your pussy pulling on him equally as much but far more able to maintain his cool. “Who owns it, who does it belong to, baby?”
a sharp inhale, breathing still constricted by his hand keeping you firmly in place and against him, and with a heavy exhale you say the words he's been looking for since the conversation started.
“You, it's yours, I'm yours— fuck, Joong, please—“
You can't see it, but you can feel the curl of his lips against your ear as he grins at the breathy admission, kissing you delicately against your temple twice before whispering how well you've done and how good you are as he picks his pace back up. A handful of hard, pointed thrusts back into you and you come undone around him all over again — the tight squeeze of you subsequently bringing him to his orgasmic demise just after as he buries cock as deeply as he can to cum inside of you.
And one of your favorite things about the man — your too-wild-to-ever-meet-the-parents ex-boyfriend who drives the custom paint maroon RX-7 — is how no matter how insane he is, he's always kind and loving to you. so, as Hongjoong gently pulls himself from you, raining kisses on every inch of exposed flesh he can manage to get his mouth on, the only words spilling from his mouth being those of praise; how good you are, how beautiful you are, how amazing you are — some times, you think he might slip and tell you he loves you in such raw, intimate times.
And sometimes, you wonder why it is the two of you ever did break up.
Phone vibrating again, the screen illuminating to show once again for your boyfriend to be attempting to get a hold of you, you feel Hongjoong still from behind you as he catches notice before rolling back and away from you and most likely, in search of another cigarette.
Picking the device up, with a tone small and shy but with an attempt at playfulness, you dare make the attempt at a joke on the matter. “Can I answer it now?”
But with silence following shortly after as the vibration cycle carries on, you're met with the sound of a lighter flickering once, twice, three times — before an exhale, then a voice laden with smoke and maybe even a hint of disappointment, if you look hard enough.
“Do whatever you want.”
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Getting into the illegal street racing thing wasn't exactly something you had in mind, and truthfully, sometimes you had a difficult time tracing back just when it had started with the way things took off in a bit of a whirlwind.
It's particularly due to the fact that you're not a racer yourself, that sometimes has you standing roadside at meets, contemplating the how's and why's of your whereabouts. With no interest in purchasing a project of your own, it started as a sort of hobby interest of yours and Chaerin's — your best friend of six years with a bit of a penchant for trouble as the years progressed. Never anything substantial or too risky — no drugs beyond the extremely rare instance, no theft — and sure, the illegal street racing thing in and of itself being of legal dubiety, it's not the worst thing a girl in her early twenties could find herself wrapped up in, that's for sure.
Besides, Chaerin had a bit of a respectable eye for partners. Boyfriends leaning far into the realm of honest and endearing, even upon dating within the circle of cars, the sort of 'bad boy' reputation for them that one would likely assume upon hearing of teams of men engaging in such activities in the dead of night — while occasionally true, after two or three tag along’s of yourself with your friend, you'd quickly come to realize that the majority of them were simply guys. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, most working through college and probably a bit more than they have to in order to fund their rather expensive hobby, some rich, trust fund kids with no issues affording whatever it was that they wanted to soup up their cars with — and when the dust had eventually settled, it was of little shock to yourself that you ended up somewhere in between.
You remember the night as if it was yesterday, only a year or so back at most anyways, Chaerin explicitly informing you that he was to be played with, and not locked down.
It seemed easy enough when you met Kim Hongjoong, at least.
A little rough around the edges being an understatement: handsome and from a rich family now a couple of years estranged but still not entirely cut off from the family wallet, sometimes you could swear that you could still make out the ways in which his sheltered, prissy upbringing that he had long since attempted to bolt down under lock and key would come through — a heavy smoker, a lighter drinker, and now stuck living in a ratty apartment just a ways out of town with his teammate, Seonghwa.
So, you had agreed, because most certainly this wouldn't be the kind of man you'd fall for, anyways. A girl has needs, however, and you quickly found Hongjoong to be more than willing to go above and beyond for them in more ways than one would likely consider to be present in a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. His willingness to do any and everything you desired sexually, evolving into exploration of sorts, you found that it happened almost naturally in the way he would begin staying over some nights instead of running home, bringing you dinner before playtime turning into going out together for dinner, and when Chaerin began noticing you showing up to car meets from the passenger side of Hongjoong's RX-7, albeit not entirely pleased with the development, she wasn't necessarily against it, either.
Your parents on the other hand, were an entirely different story.
If Hongjoong came off as rough around the edges to yourself, you could only imagine how he came off to your parents, and after one dinner with all of you together, the imagining was no longer necessary — spending the better part of an hour tearing into you about your choice in men; how Hongjoong was going nowhere in life, a deadbeat with no aspirations, a smoker, a drinker, and despite having not disclosed it, father dearest pulling no punches in just what it was that he thought about the whole illegal street racing thing.
A point of contention in what had naturally and easily transformed into a relationship with the man, more than quick hook ups and take out dinners — but there was romance and genuine caring — something special about the way that Hongjoong looked at you that you knew to be sincere.
And perhaps you were too weak-willed to manage it, the constant barrage of opinions and negativity from your family about the man you had chosen, and perhaps the relationship all too young to really weather the storm as it was, so when you told Hongjoong that the two of you should just remain friends, the disappointment was evident, but it wasn't the end of the world.
It was a little bit the end of the world, though, when Yunho came into the picture.
Moving into town a month before yours and Hongjoong's relationship ending, you had already found yourself rather well acquainted with the man in all of the worst ways: every terrible, off-putting version of Hongjoong that you figured to be buried deep down within him in hopes of never resurfacing, seemingly being all of the defining features of Jeong Yunho; mouthy, loud, and far too into himself for anyones good, really, you had only met him a handful of times at races before calling it quits with your then boyfriend, but Yunho had already long made a case for himself in squirming his way into your bedroom as Hongjoong vented about teammates losing races — and even worse, their cars — to the man in the black EVO and his team, Emperors.
How you ended up here, exactly, on a quiet Thursday night during a meet with Yunho to your right as he talks to one of his friends about a new backseat modification he's been considering for weight to his car, suppose that's where it gets a little murky.
Oh, and also the fact that you were just with Hongjoong the night before, too.
As the thoughts finally fall out of your mind, it's the feeling of a large hand on your bottom that jolts you out from them in totality, first looking down then just as quickly back up to your boyfriend.
A habit of getting handsy in public, like some bizarre expression of property owned and wishing for the entire world to see it, it had been a conversation more than three times by this point, so much so that you figure it best to simply give up on it.
“Come on, I told you I don't like that,” you whisper, it is not lost on you how willing you are to bend yourself as to not embarrass him all the while he cares little about granting you the same luxury.
With a slightly crooked smile, Yunho grins down at you before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “It's just Mingi babe, he doesn't care.”
“I care.”
Yunho rolling his eyes at the snide response, pulling his hand from you entirely as if to withhold affection for your poor behavior, your eyes can't help but find Hongjoong well across the parking lot as he engages with his friends among his own team, Spiral.
Meeting your eyes, the interaction is brief, and guilt ridden all of the same.
In fact, Yunho's disinterest in your boundaries had already resulted in a verbal altercation between the two more than once, and that's not even including everything related to on the road.
Of course, Yunho had charms, otherwise leaving would be easy to do. Earlier on, especially — perhaps you a little too fresh off of your break up and more willing to be swept up and away by the tall, handsome, guy with dark red hair that your ex kind of hated but 'maybe he isn't so bad,' you remember thinking to yourself the first time he catches you out and about one random day — asking you to dinner later that night, paying, and giving you the best dick, perhaps, of your life.
You'd find that it doesn't take much time for the layers to peel themselves back, as people with much to hide typically find it difficult to keep up the ruse for all too long, but perhaps losing Hongjoong in your life — and especially for the reasons as such — a larger hole was left than you had initially imagined, now being filled by the rich guy who lets you pay for everything despite having money, doesn't respect your boundaries, and is often found to be in questionable locations more times than you'd like to really acknowledge.
One of the reasons you sort of don't feel bad when Hongjoong texts you late in the afternoon and asks if you want to meet at the usual spot.
But for whatever reason it is, you find it hard to let Yunho go — that even still, there are times late at night when your hand fits impossible perfectly into his as the both of you lie out on the lawn just outside of town and gaze up at the stars together — him telling stories about where he used to live and what he did before he got into street racing and him actually taking an interest in you and your life beyond just showing you off as the pretty little thing he gets to put his dick into — as it often feels in relation to him.
That makes it difficult, as affairs of the heart tend to be. It's never really so cut and dry.
As the end of the night rolls around, Chaerin comes to greet you with her boyfriend, Yeonjun on her arm — and her belongings diligently being held by him as well — both with smiles on their faces as head lights begin to pop on and engines start revving around them. Yunho plopping into the drivers side of his car, Chaerin leans over the open car door with her arm across to cushion her chin, and much to Yunho's visible disapproval.
“Long time, how've things been?”
A long time because Chaerin hates him and refuses to go to mutual gatherings that you invite him along to.
Yunho's eyes first darting to you before settling back to the blonde girl hanging from his car door window, the man leans forward to grip it and shake it free from her annoying grasp before shutting it and opening the window to continue on the conversation. “Fine. You guys going out tonight or something?”
Much to your surprise, you arrived with Yunho with every intention of leaving with him, so the fact that you now are not comes as news to you, and the shock across your features is not wasted on your best friend and her boyfriend.
“You brought her, you're not going to take her home?” She asks, attitude laden in her tone and no effort to conceal it whatsoever.
Yunho snorts, nodding his head towards you as he answers. “Tell your friend not to act like such a bitch in front of my friends, maybe i'll be more inclined to be nicer to her.”
“What are you even talking—“
“I'll take her home.”
A familiar, pitchy, voice, to you especially, piping up from behind the group of you and the twist in Yunho's features making it all the more evident as Hongjoong steps up between you and Chaerin — black and white leather jacket lazily zipped halfway up across his chest and incredibly fitted, lightly destroyed black jeans hugging his thighs. Brushing a hand through silver hair, he nods to you as if it's no big deal.
And as if he didn't have his face between your legs just last night. “What's up?”
“Nothing,” you answer just as carelessly. “Need a ride home, apparently.”
“Awww, little Joongie is so sweet,” Chaerin pipes up, slinging an arm up and around Hongjoong's shoulders in such an aggressively animated way that it nearly brings the man toppling down on top of her, but Yunho only rolls his eyes at the friendly display while huffing out a “whatever,” as he turns the car engine on with a rumbling vibration.
“We'll talk about this tomorrow,” he adds, flipping the car into reverse and rolling up his window before driving off to who knows where, and leaving you to pick up the pieces of how so many interactions between the two of you end up this way.
You sigh, less of anger or sadness, but rather the exhaustion of having become so used to this treatment — it not being the first time your boyfriend has done such a thing, after all.
Letting go of Hongjoong, Chaerin judges him in the arm with her elbow. “I could have taken her, you know.”
Sometimes you wonder if she knows, if she's caught onto the games the two of you play together when you think no one is looking, or none the wiser.
A relationship ended by word of mouth only, but really, nothing having really changed.
You and Hongjoong picked back up sleeping together only a week after breaking up, and never really stopped since. You can't help but wonder if she can tell in the way the two of you interact, how comfortable it is, how unchanged it is from back then.
“It's fine, she's on the way anyways.”
You're not, and everyone knows it.
“Alright well,” your friend begins, tying long, blonde hair into a tight ponytail and slinging an arm over her lovely partner to pull him along. “Be safe you guys, have a good night. Try to get her to break up with her shitty boyfriend, would you, Joong?”
A sly grin as a parting gift and she's off before you really have a chance to say anything to the comment. Hongjoong opting for silence on the topic himself as the rest of the cars clear and the two of you find yourselves the last ones on the cement — the scent of burned rubber and exhaust still lingering heavily in the air, the man next to you shrugs, looking almost sympathetic of you and your situation — a situation that you could just as easily find yourself out of, but sympathetic nonetheless.
Walking over to Hongjoong's car, he steps around to open the passenger side door for you first before circling back and allowing himself to fall into the drivers side of his own.
“Really wish you'd leave that dickhead,” he starts, ignition growling to a start and the inside panel of the car illuminating a bright blue — all custom work, exactly to his personal liking. “Only reason I still have a passenger seat is for when I have to pick up his slack.”
It feels a little bad when he says it like that, as if he feels the need to stick around, by your side, to play boyfriend #2 because #1 does such a dog shit job of it himself, and rather than abandon you to play with the hand that you've been dealt, Hongjoong stands by to try to make each sting at the hand of Jeong Yunho just a little bit easier to deal with — until you manage the strength to do what you know you need to and leave him once and for all.
“I know, sorry,” you mutter under your breath, feeling it necessary to offer the apology. Hongjoong pulling onto the road and driving off and into the night, one hand on the steering wheel, he glances over at you twice before grinning just slightly. “It's fine, you don't have to apologize.”
Turning to look out of the window, eyes still as glued to you as driving safely might allow, he replacing his right hand on the steering wheel with his left, allowing his right to settle onto your clothed thigh with no intent beyond comfort. “Hungry? Wanna grab something?”
“It's two in the morning,” you chuckle, the lightness of the sound bringing a much brighter smile to the mans lips even in spite of your accuracy regarding the situation. “Okay yeah, we can go back to my place? Seonghwa is there but it's fine.”
“It's late, I should probably just go home.”
You don't mean for it to sound so dejected as the sounds leave your lips, a culmination of so many things stirring around in your head all at once in regards to Hongjoong and Yunho both — you think of all of the ways that Hongjoong has always been so kind and good to you, even in the midst of a purely sexual relationship with him, where Yunho finds himself seemingly unwilling to meet you even halfway on simple things or gestures anymore — a man who won his prize and no longer finds it necessary to carry on. His dues paid, and once again, Hongjoong picking up the slack.
And as if some major cosmic joke, it's not lost on you how much your parents adore Yunho.
Never having learned of the street racing thing, on top of being much more cleaned up and presentable in appearance than the alternative — it's easy for Yunho to pull off the guy next door look, and for all intents and purposes, it is him, but in all of the worst ways, and the worst possible version of it. Arrogant and egotistical and unforgiving. Unloving. Manipulative, and in so many ways, cruel.
Like two personalities swapped from the bodies you would expect to find them — Hongjoong with a mouth on him for sure and probably incapable of uttering a sentence without an expletive in it, still kinder and more loving to you than perhaps Yunho has ever been.
And worse than that, you suspect for more than one reason that Yunho is meeting with an unidentified woman this evening. The unmentionable fact that everyone seems to know about but no one talks about, and no one tells you.
But suppose that may be fair and square, after all.
As Hongjoong's car rolls to a gentle stop in front of your parents home, you know what it will result in in the morning — them chewing you out for once again being out with the man that they loathe so much, but unbeknownst to them, the one willing to get their daughter home safe and sound — you let out a heavy exhale as he turns the ignition off and the both of you open car doors to exit from his and greet the chilly, spring air awaiting you.
Watching as the man settles himself against the dark red vehicle full of labor, love and more than all, money, you can't help how natural it feels to bring your arms up and around his neck — and happy to greet you, his own falling downwards and wrapping lightly around your waist to pull you tighter against his torso as foreheads close the space between them.
“Getting daring,” Hongjoong sighs just centimeters from your mouth, referencing the rather public display of affection despite it being the absolute dead of night and not a soul to be seen within eye shot.
“Thanks for taking me home,” you ignore his words in favor of your own and with a sly tone to them at that, as if hoping that the man may have the audacity to make a move on you like this.
But you know Hongjoong well, and what he's into, and enticing him into this takes little to no effort at all.
Shifting to press the top of your thigh against his crotch, feeling the already blooming hardness beneath his pants, you're able to watch in real time as his expression turns slightly lust-fueled as he pulls the door open to the drivers side once again and seats himself on the side of the chair with his legs hanging out. pulling you along with and down towards his face, it's then that he finally kisses you — as if making enough of an effort to do the best he can to conceal these sorts of rendezvous between you — it's hard and needy, all teeth and little tongue as he devours you while you settle on your knees between his own and his hands turn downward to fumble with the belt and button of his jeans.
“You and your risky sex,” you tease, waiting for him to expose his dick for you, but Hongjoong huffs out a laugh in his haste, as if well aware of it himself.
“I'll fuck you against the car if you want.”
“What if my parents saw?” you answer with a quirked eyebrow as he finally frees his length from the confines of his jeans, hand quickly wrapping around him and delicately stroking him.
“Hope they tell Yunho.”
“You're so annoying,” and with a roll of your eyes, you press yourself forward to wrap warm, wet lips around the girth of his cock. Fingers immediately reaching up and tangling into your hair with the first dip of your head along him, you know that in scenarios like this — Hongjoong's favorite thing being having you in places and situations he has no business taking you — he'll get handsy, and he'll cum quick, and for this, both are ideal.
“God, fuck, you feel so good,” Hongjoong chimes with a groan, fingers tightening in your strands just a bit more along with the noticeable raise of his hips up and into your mouth as you bob along his cock in timed, rhythmic strokes — you think it can't be longer than a minute or two before he's whimpering expletives and praise from between his lips as you take him deep into your mouth to swallow his load down as he comes. Pulling back off of him and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, the man leans down and kisses you on the mouth — an open mouth kiss, not at all chaste or unwilling to taste himself or what you've just done on you.
“I want to see you Saturday after the race.”
You hate to ruin the mood with the information, but suppose honesty is the best policy even in scenarios where you're watching the man you're cheating on your boyfriend with tuck his softening dick back into his pants.
“Think...I have plans with Yunho that night.”
It's meek, partly because you hate saying the words to your ex, and also partly because with the way that Yunho is, who knows if that will even happen.
But Hongjoong takes it in stride as you pull away from him, standing to clear yourself out of the way so that he can pull his legs back into the car and get ready to see you off for the night.
“Well, think about it,” he begins the thought casually, and you think he may actually end it off that well if not for the sharp inhale that follows afterwards. “I'm sure you could think of an excuse, something like 'oh, I want to get fucked by my ex-boyfriend who has a sexier car and is also way better at driving than you are, you fucking loser.' would do the trick?”
Leaning down once again, you kiss Hongjoong on the mouth — quick, but bringing your hand up and to the side of his head as you do so, the touch lingers long after the kiss ends, the man leaning into it as if offering a newly unlocked form of adoration and intimacy not previously felt tonight.
“Get some sleep,” you mutter, finally pulling from him.
Hand through short blonde hair, he smiles back at you with a nod. “Anything for you, darling.”
And watching him drive off into the foggy night, all you can think is how could your parents be so wrong.
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“Hey sweetness—“
Barely jarring you from your sleep, the words comfort your ears in some strange way, like warmth itself uttered despite not even being sure that you're actually awake, actually hearing them — the dipping on the other side of the bed, however, doing a much better job of making you aware of the fact that this is, in fact, real life and not a dream. Groggy and attempting to bring yourself to cohesion, you roll onto your other side beneath warm blankets — the light from the morning, or early afternoon, which ever it is you can't be too sure just yet, shining through barely pulled apart, black out blinds.
The first thing you notice being how unfamiliar the man smells to you.
Hair damp and gently sticking to his forehead — evidence of a shower taken prior to visiting you, it's something that you've sort of made peace with, gotten used to.
But you've been to Yunho's enough to know that this isn't what his shampoo smells like.
Of course it's not fair for your chest to twist the way it does at the realization, Yunho's hand coming up to delicately press strands of your hair away from your face with a smile before leaning towards you and planting a kiss to your exposed forehead.
“I brought breakfast.”
Your lips curling upwards, a reaction that you can't help in relation to the kindness that your boyfriend extends to you, you're reminded of all of the ways and reasons that you feel for him, and even now, stay with him.
You figure no one's perfect, after all. We all have our faults.
And some of them, you share.
“Mom let you in?” you whisper, voice laden with sleep heaviness as you stretch arms out above you. you already know the answer, because your mother adores him and is ecstatic every time the man makes the effort to show his face around.
“Of course,” he chimes with another toothy smile, proud of himself for the accomplishment in having won over your parents. “Brought them something, too.”
Sitting up in bed slowly, nothing but a loose tank top and panties clinging to your body, you finally glance out and towards your computer — screensaver touting a comforting time of the day for you to see; 9:22, and you're happy that you haven't overslept despite still being tired from being out so late the night before.
Line of thought serving as a reminder of the activities also having taken place.
“We don't have to rush down,” Yunho adds as his hand begins it's slow journey between the sheets and beyond that, between your legs. Long, thin fingers dipping underneath your panties and wasting no time finding their mark between your folds — you sigh into the touch, and you'd be lying if you had attempted to tell yourself you weren't craving some release after the activities of only a handful of hours prior.
Perhaps fucked up on a number of levels, willing to give Yunho the pleasure of getting you off as a result of Hongjoong's hard work earlier.
But that also kind of does it for you, as well.
It flashes across your mind briefly, knowing but not knowing Yunho's whereabouts while you were out and about with Hongjoong, so maybe it was what you deserved — someone's sloppy seconds — melting into the touch your boyfriend offers as he shifts over and between your legs, pulling the sheets from you and beginning the hasty work of his pants button. You reach up, hands gripping at his black t-shirt to pull him down and against you as he barely catches himself with a palm against the mattress before crushing you — both of you laughing against each other lips at the clumsiness of just wanting to feel the other in a rush with little time at your disposal — Yunho kisses you like there's no time at all before dipping down towards your neck and sucking into the sensitive skin just below your ear.
“Lemmie fuck you with your panties on,” he whispers, finally freeing his cock from his pants just enough to grant him the ability to take you.
“Please,” you whine, his fingers already pulling at the sides to give himself access before your answer even rings out from between your lips — the scent of where ever it was that he had been now overwhelming your senses, it feels so bizarre how your body physically reacts to it — the knowledge of him being in places or arms where he shouldn't dare be and now coming back to you — tip of his length already pushing into you with a heavy exhale from both and bottoming out fast despite his length and your lack of prep, it's something that you've never quite gotten used to even after all of these times together, and especially in the circumstances of a quickie.
But god did you want it bad right now.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” another admission from him straight against your ear — breaths hot and humid on your skin, your eyes clamp shut at the feeling of being so filled by him just as he makes his first withdraw and push back inside of you — a hard, rough, snap of his hips that has you reeling and moaning out for him already.
This was typically how you and Yunho worked out your problems.
A few minutes down, your hands wrapped into your boyfriends hair, you whimper against his neck to fuck you harder, and feeling the nearly sinister curl of his lips you know he's happy to oblige the request — two, three harsher fucks into you, Yunho quickly slips the hand not supporting his weight over you down and between your legs to rub into your clit harshly to get you to cum around him.
“Yeah baby, cum for me,” he whispers into your ear, words cut up and jerked out from the own movement of his body. “Cum with me baby, I'm close.”
“Fuck, Yunho—“
Whining out for him as your muscles clench around him, orgasm taking you with the help of his handy work and his words (and perhaps a bit of the memory of Hongjoong cumming down your throat a few hours prior), you cum hard — hands coming down to grip into his shoulders, Yunho pulls up to fuck you harder and faster as he chases his own just behind you — the evidence of your nails digging into his clothed skin evident across his features as a splash of pain flashes across — but it's only seconds later that he groans, burying himself almost painfully deep inside of your cunt as he paints your walls with his release — then two more lazy, shallow thrusts into you before gently lying himself atop your torso with a heavy, contented, sigh.
For whatever reason, it's times like this especially that you want to ask him where he was.
Why he has to go elsewhere — if it's you, him, or a culmination of the two that causes him to do the things he does.
When you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand just as Yunho slips out of you and pushes himself back inside of his pants, you know it's Hongjoong.
“When are you going to break up with that guy, anyways?”
Not the ideal first thing to hear upon meeting up with your best friend, but not surprising, either, after the events of the night before.
Setting your bag down on an empty chair at the table, Chaerin watches you intently with her arms crossed in front of her chest, one eyebrow perked up as if somewhat judging even though you know she doesn't, not really.
Both of you in lazy t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the bit of dress up each of you tend to play when it comes to car related events, you realize it's become rare that the two of you meet this casually — with how busy both of you are with your respective lives.
“Nice to see you, too,” you chime back sarcastically as you sit yourself down at the table. grabbing towards a menu, Chaerin pops her hand out to stop you from taking it.
“I already ordered, don't change the subject!”
“I hardly think ordering food at a restaurant is changing the subject...”
“You know he's cheating on you.”
Hearing the words sting, but not as much as they would if you weren't doing the exact same thing, you guess.
Clearing your throat uncomfortably and looking around in an attempt to find any prying eyes or ears that may be listening in on your conversation, you lean across the table towards your friend with a sigh. “I don't know that, Chaerin.”
Sitting back in her chair with a huff, the blonde rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, you're smarter than that, you know. You're fine with it?”
“I mean, I don't know.”
“Beyond that, he treats you like shit anyways, what the fuck was all of that last night? Just abandoning you at the meet?”
“I knew plenty of people there who could take me home,” you quietly offer as argument, much to Chaerin's dismay.
“Gotta be honest with you,” she starts, eyes pulling away from you momentarily as if unsure of the right way to go about the rest of the conversation. “I don't think he really cared all that much about whether you did or not. Let your ex take you home so he could go fuck some other—“
“Chaerin—“
“I'm just saying.”
Silence befalling the table just as wait staff arrive with the previously ordered food, you exhale heavily at the sight of everything sprawled out in front of you, and the suffocating knowledge of everything just discussed.
Hardly much for making an appetite.
“I need to tell you something,” you pipe up suddenly, and much to your friends surprise. you watch as her eyes slowly pull towards your own, waiting for the bomb you have to drop, and boy, is it a doozy, too.
“I've...I've actually been—“
“Oh, what the fuck, hey.”
Once again, piped up out of no where, and you're sort of beginning to curse living in such a small city where so few restaurants reign as the supreme places to go — you already know who awaits your eyesight before ever turning towards him, but it's the sight of him dressed in his Spiral gear that is what takes you by surprise more than anything.
That, and the fact that you were just about to tell Chaerin about your ongoing involvement.
“Now, why are you everywhere?” Chaerin greets with a smile before playfully nodding in your direction. “You stalking your ex?”
“She's got enough problems without the whole crazy ex-boyfriend thing, i'll spare her the trouble,” Hongjoong snorts just before sitting himself into another empty chair at your table.
It's awkward — because you feel as though everyone knows a secret but it can't be spoken. Perhaps that is the case, after all. Too many secrets.
“She was just about to tell me something and now you came and ruined it, thanks a lot,” your friend jokes just before scooping a fork full of meat into her mouth. Hongjoong turns to glance at you — as if knowing fully well what it was that you were about to disclose to the woman — and with a devilish grin and an elbow on the table to cradle his chin: “Oh really? Do tell.”
He definitely knows.
“It's...nothing. Girl talk.”
You make the decision to bring your hands into your lap, for fear of them visibly shaking should you bring them up to eye sight.
“I'm sure it is,” he replies with a tone that you can only describe as knowing. “Anyways, just picking up food for the guys down at the shop — Seonghwa's been working nonstop on the car for tomorrow so he can be ready to beat your shitty little boyfriend.”
Chaerin laughs, a woman with no particular horse in the race aside from hating that man, and with Hongjoong standing back up, you send him off with a hello for Seonghwa in particular.
A race planned for over a month now, and not one that you've been looking forward to, either. Yunho doing what he does — challenging drivers from opposing teams to races for their pink slips, and it's unsurprising that anyone from Spirals would ever turn down the opposition — if you get challenged by Emperors, you have to accept.
Not accepting is as good as losing, anyways.
You wonder why it is that neither Yunho nor Hongjoong have ever challenged one another — bringing it up one evening over a couple of beers with your partner, and Yunho's only answer being that he doesn't even want Hongjoong's 'shitty RX-7.'
The irony being, of course, that Hongjoong and Seonghwa drive the same make.
Phone vibrating from your pocket shortly after Hongjoong leaves, you pull it from your jeans to illuminate the screen and view the notification gracing the lockscreen.
>Aunty H: gonna tell your bestie you're still getting dick on the side? she'd probably be thrilled lmao
Looking up towards your friend across the table for a split second before unlocking your phone to reply — as if she somehow has the ability to know what it is that the man said to you from the back of your device, you feel as though every eye in the entire world rests on you in this moment. Perhaps not the best time for this conversation, after all.
>You: I don't like keeping the secret from her, idk. she hates Yunho for it when i'm doing the same thing.
Hongjoong begins typing back so quickly you believe him to simply be sitting in his car in the parking lot just outside to have this conversation in the moment.
>Aunty H: she hates Yunho because he's a piece of shit and on top of that he can't keep it in his pants either. not the same. speaking of, I want to see you tomorrow night after the race
>You: I told you I have plans with Yunho
>Aunty H: you fuck him since last night?
Rolling your eyes, you pause for a moment to think over your response. It's really none of his business, but given the circumstances — suppose everyone's sexual whereabouts be everyone else's business.
>You: don't do that
>Aunty H: i'll see you saturday
It doesn't feel good, the circumstances you've allowed yourself to fall into, but at the same time — the promise of what Saturday night may hold — after the sounds of tires screeching and adrenaline pumping through every vein subsides, what either man may have in store for you, depending on how the evening turns out.
And perhaps, it's time to get it the fuck together and make an actual decision, too.
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 More than anything, it's the familiar scent of exhaust, fuel, and burnt rubber that you've come to find comforting, a sense of home in the strangest sense.
Dozens of cars lined up on the outside of the road — a long, winding trail of only two lanes, one each way — that is tonight’s destination. a sheen of wetness on the ground from rain much earlier on in the evening, not ideal driving circumstances for most, but for the more experienced drivers — the ones that experience an even higher thrill from the danger, the unexpectedness of it — it's ideal. Hongjoong specifically, touted as a master of the pin hair corner drift, and especially out of Spirals, you know it to be precisely the sort of weather that he wishes to be racing in.
But tonight isn't his night, it's his best friend, Seonghwa's.
A tall, beautiful man with long, black hair and often clad in all black leather, black jeans, and his hair tied up into a half ponytail — he's far from the kind of person most would expect to find at a place like this — currently bent in half and over the engine of his matte black RX-7 making the finishing preparations for his race against your main squeeze.
With the leader of the crew standing just beside him, of which you are well acquainted.
And on nights like this, you belong to Emperors.
Race nights turn into strictly 'friendship aside' events, at least, once Yunho and Emperors started coming around. A group of street racers all intermingling and enjoying one another's company once before, now heavily segregated and pushed apart — the need to choose sides becoming apparent once Emperors began racing people for their cars, and subsequently, Spirals member and long time friend of Hongjoong's, Jongho, losing his to Mingi.
So now, as you with Yunho to your side pass by Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and the rest of Spirals with your own little band of Emperors tagging just behind, a few glances are all that are exchanged between the lot of you, with eyes between you and your ex lingering just a bit longer than some may even notice at a glance.
Yunho's hand slipping down from around your shoulders to your waist only to linger there for a moment before trailing down and to your ass — right in Hongjoong's line of vision, you snap your head up and towards your boyfriend to tell him off for far from the first time for such a grievance—
Only to find his attention far from you, and rather, on that of the man who only a few months prior called you his own, himself.
Following the tall man to his vehicle and settling yourself against the side of it as he settles himself inside of the drivers seat, you spare yourself the bother of looking him in the eye to reprimand him for the behavior, simply looking out and towards the scene before you of people laughing, enjoying themselves — people with nothing to lose tonight, only here to enjoy a show, and hopefully, everyone making it out in one piece.
“How many times do I have to tell you—“
“Yeah yeah, I know, why's it such a big deal to you? a lot of women would like having me show them off, ya know.”
“Yeah? a lot of women?” you say with a snide bite to your tone, finally turning to face him. “Guess you'd know, wouldn't you?”
Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the retort, Yunho pauses before curling his lips into a smirk. “Anything else, princess? I've got shit to do tonight, like take your little pals' friends' car.”
“Why do you have to be like that with him? With them?”
As much of a surprise as it is to Yunho — the sudden aggressiveness to you that you never having displayed towards him before for all of his transgressions — it's just as much a surprise to yourself. Knowing fully well that the outcome of enough of this could easily result in the dissolution of your relationship with the man.
And you wonder, if that's a price you're willing to pay. You also wonder, if this is effectively you slamming your hand down on the self-destruct button.
“I'm not being like anything,” he snaps back, ignition of his car roaring on and gently pushing you out of the way so that he can shut his car door. “Back where I'm from, anywhere where people actually race, people drive for pink slips all of the time. Those are the stakes. It's not my fucking problem that everyone here wants to play carebears and rainbows and no one actually wants to drive.”
“You're such an asshole, you know that? Why can't you just fit in? Assimilate? Why does everything have to be about your fucking ego all of the time?”
“Well babe,” he sighs, pressing his car into drive and effectively communicating to you that the conversation is over — something that you're well aware of already with calls for the drivers to come to the front lines. “You wanted to be with me, and you still are, so what does that say about you?”
Silence takes you, chewing on the inside of your lip — you do wonder.
“Get your attitude in check by the time the race is over,” he adds just before rolling off. “I have a much better use for your mouth in mind than all of this bullshit.”
With that, your boyfriend slowly rolls off and towards the starting line, glancing over and across the cement, you watch as Hongjoong pulls up from Seonghwa's drivers side window for his friend to carry on doing the same, and as if feeling your gaze upon him, turns to meet eyes with your own.
It's ill-advised to be seen mingling in a place like this, during a night like this, so instead, you're barred to stolen glances through midnight fog and cigarette smoke.
Stepping up with your jacket clutched inwards towards your chest, you stand alongside another Emperors driver, Yeosang — a shorter guy with a wicked birthmark adorning his face — as Seonghwa and Yunho meet up at the starting line in the dead of night, awaiting the referees announcements to begin preparation. First, it's a rundown of the rules for the race; very little of them, given that it is illegal street racing, but effectively boiling down to 'don't intentionally do things that put you or others at higher risk of injury or death,' then it's how the countdown to start will begin shortly. You meet eyes with Yunho — the car closest to you — a stare cold and disinterested and lacking any emotional care for you at all, so when he pulls his eyes away and back towards the wet road ahead of him, your eyes wander further out and towards Seonghwa, who also greets you.
A silent nod that the two of you share, as if agreeing on a preferable outcome for the evening.
The truth is that Jeong Yunho's reputation certainly be fitting of him: a good driver, skilled, and with a fast car, at that.
Seonghwa was good, great, even — but technically outmatched — and part of the evil that shrouded Emperors reputation, as well. A sort of 'pick on someone your own size' mentality certainly lost on them.
Yunho had never challenged Hongjoong, and for that, many thought there to be a reason.
With the buzzer sounding for the impending countdown, your hands gripping the steel of the barrier erected between the viewers and the street in front, you inhale sharply the scent of the dewy night sky, and all in all, can only hope for each of them to make it out in one piece.
Then, the familiar scent of a certain cigarette evading your senses.
Three, two, one, go.
Tires screeching, the two pull off lightning quick, and you're disappointed in the fact that from where you stand, you'll see very little of it until the end — people already beginning to move towards the finishing line to have the perfect view of the outcome, you feel the familiar presence of not one, but two people coming up on either side of you: Chaerin, and Hongjoong, naturally.
“You're late,” you nod to your friend, her nodding in response.
“Purposefully, I don't need to watch Emperors all circle jerk each other off pre-race, seen it enough times as it is.”
Hongjoong snorts at the comment from the other side of you before taking a drag of his already lit cigarette as it sits between freshly painted fingers.
“What do you think?” you ask him, tone lower and less playful than the one you had just had with Chaerin a moment ago. The man hums, looking up and into the night sky before stepping back again with intent to head towards the finish line as well.
“Yunho will probably win,” he states, matter of a fact. “But it's fine, we have cars. Paint job on his was expensive though so that'll probably hurt.”
“He has a lot of money in that car,” you sigh disappointingly, and Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, he does.”
“We should go,” Chaerin chimes with a nudge into your arm.
The thought of Yunho taking, and taking from the people and places that mean so much to you without giving much of anything back weighing heavier and heavier on your heart and soul with each passing day, you find.
Seonghwa figures that for a race like this, the fact that it's an uphill track works out in his favor — with the roads wet and gravity defying, top speeds peak relatively low, which means that despite Yunho having far more time and money into his car, what it will really come down to is skill, and knowledge — two things that the man with the ponytail feels he has leaps and bounds of over his opponent. a course he's done countless times, and Yunho, only a handful since moving here, it lends itself to being the course that people test, especially when it comes to the hairpin drift.
It's Hongjoong's favorite, too.
Hitting the shift and snapping his car forward with Yunho just behind, the two take the first turn — not an especially difficult one, but Seonghwa notices that already he feels the road give way a bit beneath his vehicle at the speed in which he's driving as he momentarily loses the back end of the car — it's not a loss, nothing that his opponent can gain on having immediately straightened out for a bit just past it — but Seonghwa takes note of the fact regardless, being well aware of the kinds of twists and turns that await them just a bit further up the road.
For Yunho, however, the turn is of little concern to him, happily trailing behind his opponent for the time being as he grins at the sight of the much lesser experienced driver just ahead of him lose it in the tail end of the corner. 'A good sign,' he thinks to himself, not that he was worried to begin with — considering this to be just another easy win for his team to collect under their belts.
The next corner proves to be much tighter, and much more difficult to navigate — for Seonghwa, at least. Slamming his shift to hit the drift at just the precise moment, heart leaping into his chest as he steals a second to stare back into his rear view mirror to check on how Yunho is handling it, it gives him little comfort watching the way that Yunho navigates the track with his vehicle, and with a lump in his throat, slams his shift once again for the next oncoming turn — a hard right following the previous hard left — and with it being a relatively short track with no long straightaways after the last hairpin corner for Yunho to gain on him with an objectively faster and more powerful car, if he can manage to avoid allowing his opponent the space to overtake in one of the turns, or worse, lose control of his car and give Yunho the race for free — that it should be an easy win for the man on Team Spirals.
Shifting gear, Seonghwa slams on the break just enough to hit his drift just right, this time not losing the back end at all — a comforting sign, glancing back at the EVO behind him and still trailing — a short straight drive before the last sharp left, and subsequently the end of the race — this being the make or break of the entire competition.
Shifting again to hit his drift — tires screeching and the smell of burning rubber carrying so heavy in the air that surely everyone waiting at the top of the mountain can feel the heaviness of the impending end, Seonghwa glances back again to look towards the tall man with the dark, red hair in his rearview mirror—
But this time, he finds no one there looking back at him.
Panic settling hard and fast into his chest, the man looks over to his side, Yunho now having crept up just next to him on the same drift — unaware of how it is that he's able to gain on a hairpin turn such as this one but without the ability to think much of it now — and sure, through numerous races between he and Hongjoong on this very same track, it's not unheard of, and has happened before.
But tonight, of all nights.
Yunho looking over at the panicking driver with a cool and collected demeanor as he slams his shift to carry a straighter drive just a second faster than Seonghwa — the man can't help but let out an exasperated 'fuck!' to no one as he follows suit but all too late in the grand scheme of things — seconds of drive feeling like a collection of years in the moment and the outcomes resulting the same, all it takes it one second — and in situations such as this one, it's the Emperors leader Jeong Yunho who effortlessly shows his skill, precision, and experience. all within one seconds time.
Coming out of the turn, the lights from the awaiting crowd in full view as Yunho rips forward and ahead of Seonghwa who only straightens out his own vehicle just after — and in less than ten seconds, the race is over as the both of them cross the finish line.
Trying to temper your frown at the result, and pulling away from Hongjoong before Yunho can catch you in his eyesight of being with the man, you notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek contemplatively — disappointed, but not surprised.
As you make your way through the crowd and towards your boyfriend — stepping tall and proud from his vehicle with a smug grin on his face as if the entire world rest in his palm, it's a bubbling feeling of disgust, and maybe even resentment that starts to churn within you at the sight of him.
The cheers from other Emperors members and fans alike ringing through your ears, too loud, too obnoxious to stand listening to for too long, Yunho catches sight of you before you have a chance to duck out of the group of people, stepping forward and taking you by the hand to pull you towards him and into a kiss for the people to see.
When he finally releases you, you catch eyes with Hongjoong in the back of the standing people — cigarette dangling between pretty lips and eyes rolling as he turns back to console the loser of the race.
“Problem, Chief.”
The words come from Mingi — driver, racer, mechanic and closest friend of Yunho's, so you know it's not good when the both of you quickly turn your attention to the man with his attention hard pressed into the windshield of your boyfriends car.
“Man, come on, what now!” Yunho whines as he steps around and next to his friend to view whatever it is that is the issue.
Pointing a finger towards a large crack in the glass — spanning from the bottom right corner all of the way up to nearly the center, Mingi doesn't even really have to say it before the red head starts groaning with his head tossed back. “Give me a fuckin' break.”
“You didn't notice?” Mingi asks with a bit of a chuckle, as if completely unsure how that could be, but Yunho shrugs. “I heard something hit it but I just thought it was a small rock, I didn't think it would be all of this.”
“You can't drive it like this, we'll have to bring it back to the shop tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, I know,” your boyfriend groans again, the largest inconvenience in the world now being presented just before him. “Good thing I just gained a new car, I guess.”
It sends chills down your spine, only now being reminded of exactly what it was that was on the line for this race.
With a sinister tone and a single corner of his mouth upturning, Mingi chuckles. “Better go collect, then.”
Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders a bit more roughly than you would have liked, Yunho leans down just a bit to plant a kiss on the top of your head as he pulls you forward and towards the group of Spirals only a few feet away.
“Just another pretty little thing I get to take from these bums.”
The words twisting your stomach into knots all over again, there had always been a sneaking suspicion deep within your soul that somewhere in there, at the end of the day, there was no respect for you, no love for you, nothing genuine at all.
Just another possession that Yunho wished to acquire, as he had been his entire time there.
Shouting out and towards the grouping of guys, Seonghwa leaning with his back against his car and quite evidently to you trying to play his loss cool — you've known him long enough to know how much he loves that car, and how badly it stings for him to lose it.
You hate to see it, and more than that, you hate to see it be lost to Emperors.
“You cracked my windshield, fuckboy,” Yunho shouts — the tone is playful, but it's more fuel to the fire you can tell from the way Hongjoong's jaw tightens as he clenches it in an attempt to be a good sport about the whole ordeal. “Time to pay up, I need to get me and the girl home, after all.”
“Yeah,” Seonghwa sighs, turning to lean into his car and popping the dashboard compartment to retrieve the title, it's then that the sound of Hongjoong stepping up from the side can be heard.
“What can I do to keep Seonghwa's car?”
At first a sweeping moment of silence, before a crashing sound and what you can only imagine to be Seonghwa slamming his head against his dash in shock at the proclamation by his friend as the man hisses and is found to be rubbing the back of it upon pulling himself out of the side of the vehicle — but with short silver hair and similarly short in stature — especially compared to your boyfriend, Hongjoong stands firm in front of the man, arms crossed in front of his chest as he awaits a response.
Yunho looking at him with one quirked eyebrow before glancing down towards you with a lopsided grin, he looks back up at Hongjoong through eyelashes before delivering his short-thought response.
“Kind of bad form to beg me not to take my spoils, don't you think?” he asks smugly. “Kind of pathetic, ya know?”
“You don't need it, you guys only drive EVO's anyways, who cares.”
“Hardly the point,” he says, matching Hongjoong's stance as he pulls from you and crosses his arms to stand straight — and even taller — in front of your ex. “We had an agreement, and I won fair and square, the car is mine.”
“What, so you can rip it for parts?” Hongjoong asks.
“No, so I can trash it where it belongs.”
Snorting at the pissy response, the shorter of the two glances away for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek again before turning back to carry on the conversation, but it's Seonghwa who interjects before he's able to.
“Hongjoong, it's fine, he won.”
“Actually, it's not,” he says, this time more pointed than his previous tone. “I don't think it is fine, actually, so what can I do to keep my mans car?”
Watching the three go back and forth causing anxiety to bubble up in your gut, unsure of the lengths in which any of the men are willing to go to in order to get their points across, you give it some thought yourself — if there's anything that you can do to settle this situation between all of them yourself. the person with the most dealings with all parties involved, now standing by on the sidelines as the two teams attempt to hash it out — and not well, at that, your mind races in an attempt to come to an answer, but before you're able, you feel the discomforting gaze of your partner raining down on you from just above, all before any words even leave his mouth.
“Well babe, what do you think? Should we let the poor guy keep his ratty ol' car?”
You know a set up when you see it — or in this case, when you hear it.
Glancing towards Hongjoong, his eyes pull away almost immediately, you figure as to not attempt to pressure you into making a decision one way or another — and not knowing how much weight your decision holds, that earlier anxiety continues creeping up through your chest, and into your throat.
You know that one thing is for sure: doing the right thing most certainly will come with consequences.
“Well?”
Inhaling slowly, deeply, you make your decision.
“Let Seonghwa keep the car.”
You try not to engage in eye contact with your boyfriend, knowing full well that his gaze remain laser focused on you especially now, but the curiosity getting the best of you as you glance upwards to meet angry, disappointed eyes — the strangest result of an expression of compassion awaiting you — Yunho hums just barely audibly before forcing a grin and looking back up and towards the Spirals members.
“Lady says fuckboy keeps his car, so fuckboy keeps his car.”
One part relieved at the outcome, one part surprised by your word carrying any weight with the man, and the last concerned about the result of this in regards to your relationship with Yunho, slinging an arm up and around your shoulder again, he hurries you off and away from the men.
But regardless of what happens now, you know that you've done the right thing — and maybe for once you'll be able to sleep well tonight.
“We're gonna go to the bar, wanna come?”
Yeosang's voice ringing out as the two of you step forward, Yunho abruptly pulls his arm from you as he carries forward and towards the friends glossy white EVO — and waving a hand up in the air, he bids you farewell in a turn of events that you find not all that surprising anymore.
“Get a ride home with your pals,” he rings out, tone venomous and contemptuous. “In the ratty old RX-7, all used up and past its prime—“ he scoffs as he opens the passenger side door.
“—Kinda reminds me of someone else I know.” He says, finishing the thought before sliding inside of the car and slamming the door shut.
The words don't hurt — not from him. It's an anticipated outcome from a calculated risk that you decided to take.
But they show the mans true colors all the same.
As you watch your boyfriend and his friends drive off to enjoy the rest of their victory evening without you — shooting you knowing glances all the while — you contemplate sending the text message then and there, the one ending your relationship with him once and for all. A break up via text, perhaps precisely what he deserves for his thoughtlessness towards you, anyways, but still extending yourself much further for him than perhaps the man would ever do for you.
Save it for another day, and try to enjoy the rest of your evening.
Sauntering back over towards Spirals, Chaerin now joining the fray, she looks up at you from beneath Seonghwa's popped hood — having been checking out his engine as you dealt with the disaster on the other side of the asphalt.
But as she flashes you with a wide smile, it's all the more indication that what you had done was right.
“You're in big trouble, aren't you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.
Sighing, you shrug. “Looks like I need another ride home tonight.”
Hongjoong popping up from the drivers side of Seonghwa's car, where the tallest man is sat and about ready to head off for the night and overhearing the conversation, he sends you a knowing look from across matte black paint that may now still remain in the company of his teammate, and all thanks to you.
With Chaerin and Seonghwa being the last two to drive off, and leaving only you and your ex-boyfriend at the top of the hill, you place your bag into the passenger side seat of Hongjoong's car before shutting the door and leaning against it with your chest — arms crossed along the top as you wait for the man on the other side to finish doing the same and come up to meet your eyes.
“Surprised you did it,” he says as he does, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket to loosen it just a bit. “Guess I don't have to ask if he's pissed since you're here.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, long since accepting of the outcome of the situation and having made peace with it. “He'll get over it.”
“Why's his car still here, anyway?”
“Crack in the windshield,” you reply with a shrug. “Karma, maybe.”
“Oh, definitely,” he chimes back with a snort. “Lemmie see this thing.”
The two of you walking back over towards Yunho's car, long since abandoned and awaiting it's rescue in the early morning hours (or not so early, depending on how the night out goes), you recall this being the exact spot where you and Hongjoong shared your first kiss — first romantic kiss — past the veil of a friends with benefits arrangement, more raw and exposed and knowing between you both; a much chillier night than this and much windier when he finally pulled you in for it with no other intentions beyond it, and the words that you had secretly been wanting to hear for weeks before then.
'I think we should just see each other, only, what do you think?'
“Oh man, that's a fuckin' doozy!”
High pitched laughter ringing through the night air and straight through the memory, effectively bringing you back to the present, your attention pulls back to Hongjoong, leaned over the side hood of Yunho's EVO to laugh at your boyfriends misfortune. “No wonder he was so hard up for Seonghwa's car, fuckin' scumbag.”
Meeting him at his side to take a look at the damage again, you smile at Hongjoong's joy in it, knowing it's well deserved, and most earned.
“Looks like I got you to myself tonight, after all.”
It's sort of a sudden change, the way his body shifts to pull away from the vehicle only enough to plant you further against it, and underneath him — arms on either side of you, caging you in with little option for escape from the man.
Not that you really wanted to, anyway.
Hongjoong leans in towards your face, lips grazing the skin of your cheek on their way towards your ear — the contact sending a shiver down your spine — some bizarre taboo of being held like this by him against such a prized possession of your boyfriends — but suppose that makes two of them, now well within Hongjoong's grasp currently.
“Have the keys?”
For a second you wonder what he's referring to, before it dawns on you that he's referring to the car, and with a shake of your head to protest. “No, only Mingi has another set.”
“Damn,” he whispers against the shell of your ear as a hand dips down and makes its way between your legs to palm at you. “That's okay, we can make due.”
Devilish in tone, you melt into the touch as he begins pulling at the buttoning of your jeans, face turning upwards and pulling your mouth into his — his tongue tasting of cigarette and coffee in anticipation of a long night ahead, you happily lean into it as your arms sling up and around his neck to pull him harder against you.
Shimmying your pants down your legs, he pulls away from your mouth only long enough to slink down to free one of your feet from the restrictive clothing, hiking your leg up and around his hip as he comes back up to meet your mouth for the second round of devouring you — cool metal greeting your behind as he presses you harder against the vehicle, you moan into his mouth as a finger presses into you slowly, one hand from around his neck falling back and against the car to steady yourself better for what it is that's soon to take place.
A second finger in, slowly prying you open for his cock, Hongjoong's mouth pulls away to trail down your neck, latching onto the skin just below your chin to suck a mark into it.
Just another doing of his that you'll have to cover up, like all of the ones before it. Perhaps if you were smarter, you'd tell him to avoid doing such things.
But frankly, that's not something you want, either.
“Wanna fuck you,” he groans into your skin, a whimper escaping you in response to the admission. Fingers pulling from you to work into his own jeans, you allow your head to fall back to take in the moment — the beautiful night sky, the light breeze, and the lingering scents of the nights earlier goings on. only a few seconds granted to you before you feel the familiar prodding of the tip of him pushing inside of you through the sound of his belt buckle jingling through the air.
“Kiss me,” you whisper out, Hongjoong wasting no time obliging the request as he brings his mouth up from your neck and to your lips, one hand gripping tightly into your thigh to keep it hoisted up his hip as he fucks you against the vehicle.
The angle certainly doing you favors, presenting the perfect ability for Hongjoong's cock to graze the perfect spot with every drive into you, free hand not used to keep yourself somewhat upright now buried into short, blonde hair — the man fucks you hard, but not particularly fast, every thrust seemingly deliberate in his desire to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible.
Legs quaking around him as you cry out his name, clenching down around him as he fucks you through your orgasm, Hongjoong pauses kissing you long enough to pull from your lips enough to watch you intently as you cum around his dick — forehead pressed to your own as you moan and whimper through your release.
“Fuck me from behind.”
The demand spilling from your lips before you have a chance to think much of it, still reeling from your orgasm, no time lost in taking heed of it — pulling himself from you and turning you around to bend you over the cold metal of your boyfriends car before burying his cock inside of you again and settling into a much harder, quicker pace than before.
You feel him reach down for something briefly, without much thought to it, until you hear the sound of a lighter flickering, and the scent of freshly lit cigarette from behind you.
It's a little charming, in a hilariously degenerate way, you think.
“Rubbed off on you a little bit, huh?” he huffs out between thrusts, one hand settled on the small of your back while the other wraps around the dip in your waist. “Now who likes getting fucked in places they have no business getting fucked in?”
“Joong— feel so good, fuck—“ and it's hardly a response to the questions, although it sort of is with how exquisite the drag of his cock feels against your walls.
“Yeah, baby? Want me to make you cum again? Like me fucking you on your mans car?”
“Yes,” you manage to huff out, the air nearly fucked out of you with every hard push of himself against you.
Feeling the brief loss of one of his hands — presumably to finish off his cigarette and toss it to the side — he brings it back to gently snake up the length of your back, settling at the back of your neck and gripping fingers into the sides to continue his rhythm.
“Rub yourself for me,” Hongjoong whispers, voice faltering every so slightly at the creeping promise of his own release, and you waste no time bringing your dominant hand down and between your legs — first feeling for the way his cock stretches your pussy open with every push inside of you, enough in and of itself to get you that much closer to where you want to get to before circling fingers against your clit to bring yourself over the edge around him — groaning immediately at the feeling of you tightening around him with the additional stimulation, he fucks you that much harder.
Biting hard into your lip in an attempt to stifle your cries, Hongjoong notices, and much to his disapproval.
“No one can hear you, you can scream for me,” he groans, clearly and quickly reaching his own orgasmic inevitability. “Lemmie hear you, tell me how good it feels.”
The instruction does enough of the work, his desire to hear you cry out for him and how good he makes you feel as you cum hard — at the same time, Hongjoong's hips stuttering with a breathy moan of your name as he shoves his cock as deep into you as he can to cum — the throb of his release prolonging your own as you sound nearly pained by the feeling of a long, drawn out, second orgasm of the night.
An airy 'fuck' dropping from him as he attempts to steady himself, catch his breath after his release, Hongjoong only bends forward to lean himself against your back — gentle kisses peppered across your shoulder and back before he settles the side of his head down against you for a moment of reprieve.
As a gust of fresh, night air flushes by and across hot skin, when the words ring out through bitten, red, lips, you think for a split second that you're not sure which one of you they truly come from — long since having been hanging in the forefront of your mind, as it was.
'I miss you. Us.'
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Over the next following weeks, you can't help but notice the acute way in which messages back from Hongjoong dissipate. You figure, at least to some degree, that the relationship between Spirals and Emperors having reached such a boiling point after the last race, that perhaps it's expected — that even in spite of your good deed in martyring yourself for Seonghwa's car, the fact that it ever even reached that point be reason enough to want to distance himself from you.
That's what you tell yourself, at least, ignoring the elephant in the room.
And as the days pass, you find your relationship with Yunho having also deteriorated in such a way that maybe you hadn't anticipated. Yes, you expected him to be mad about the dealing with Seonghwa, and yes, that had been something that you had factored in prior to making the decision — in thinking that with a few days to cool off, things might just go back to normal.
Not that normal was ever even that great, either.
So two weeks later, on a rainy Thursday night just two hours before the scheduled meet up — no races and no thrills given the weather — when Yunho texts you that he's coming over to talk, you're unsure of what to expect. Perhaps the dissolution of your relationship, the thought causing an expected twisting to the contents of your stomach.
Why, you're not sure. Would breaking up even really be that bad?
But suppose the ending of a relationship where there once had been love will always be hard.
Watching Yunho drag himself through the doorway of your bedroom, jacket almost certainly left at the front door of your home and bag slumping down to the floor with a thud, you watch as he avoids eye contact with you for the first few seconds of his arrival — fingers pushing through damp, rained upon hair to remove what's stuck to the skin of his forehead, he sighs heavily as he finally makes eye contact with you — but doesn't press himself further inside of the bedroom, either.
Awkwardness so tangible, it's the first time that you think you've ever seen him in such a bizarre state — not so astoundingly full of ego and grandeur but rather, somewhat impish as a result of whatever it is that he came here tonight to say.
“We should talk.”
Voice deep but almost cracking through the abruptness of the words, it takes you quite a bit back as once again his eyes dart from you — knots tightening in your abdomen at the sight of your boyfriend just before you.
You can't find it in you to respond to him, waiting for the pin to drop, instead.
“You can't spend time with Spirals anymore.”
Wait, what?
You don't say it, not verbally at least, and you suppose you twist of your features in near disgust says everything that it needs to as Yunho rolls his eyes at the quiet display of you before him.
“Don't really want you hanging out with that bitch Chaerin, either, but i'm willing to compromise.”
“'Willing'?” you mirror back, shock laden in your tone. “You're telling me who I can and can't hang out with, now? I've known them all way longer than i've known you.”
“Yeah and I don't think that's doing you any favors,” he bites back, finally stepping towards you in a much stronger stride than the way he had entered. “The thing with Seonghwa was humiliating, you're my girlfriend, why the fuck are you going to bat for him? He lost.”
Scoffing, you reel at the fact that the argument is taking place at all with how asinine it is to you.
“This is stupid, you can't tell me who I can spend time with.”
“I can and I will.”
Standing up from the edge of your bed and pushing past him, you swiftly grab your phone and keys from your nightstand on the way out before turning back to him for the final blow.
You pause, having to think twice before delivering it.
“You feel big, Yunho?” You start, contempt heavy in your voice towards him with eyes equally narrow and cutting. “You feel brave only racing people who aren't on your level? Is that why—“
Pausing again, you watch the mans eyes widen at the beginning of the implication, stepping towards you again. “Say it! Say what you were going to say!”
“—that why you never challenged Hongjoong?”
You turn again to leave, but not before long fingers wrap around your arm to stop you. Not especially aggressive or violent but enough to have your heart beating through your chest at the implications — a man putting his hands on you during a heated argument — You still anyways, just in case.
You don't think Yunho would hit you, but frankly, you're not entirely sure, either.
The two of you locking eyes, rage and disdain painting each one of your faces as you stare each other down, Yunho lets go of you almost just as quickly as he had grasped a hold.
And probably regretting it just as much, too.
“See yourself out,” you say just before turning to leave again, and when Yunho asks you where you're going, the only details you grace him with are “out.”
“He put his fucking hands on you?”
The voice rings out from Chaerin — shrill and shrieky through the echoing walls of the mechanic shop, previously rolled up beneath her forest green RX-8 — but quickly wheeling herself out from under it at the sound of the words leaving your mouth.
Hongjoong only a few more feet away; leaned back in a tattered rolling chair that's certainly seen better days and boots kicked up onto a desk that's now used for very little besides holding water bottles and the occasional wrench — as he attempts to dig out oil from underneath a fingernail with a switchblade he adds commentary of his own. “The guy's a piece of shit, got half a mind to slash his fucking tires right in front of his face tonight.”
“Don't bother,” you sigh. “He didn't hurt me, he wasn't violent, but yeah—“
“A man putting his hands on you in any way during an argument is violent,” Chaerin states clearly as she walks towards you to pull you into a hug. “I'm sorry, my love.”
“I'm okay, seriously.”
“You've got to leave him,” the blonde woman adds after your affirmation of being alright with the circumstances. “I mean, this can't keep going on. It was already bad but things are just getting worse, and worse at this point. The cheating, the controlling behavior, now getting physical with you...”
You can't help but glance to your far right towards Hongjoong in an attempt to assess the way that he's intaking the information, but the man appears to be outwardly unbothered — still picking apart the underside of his fingernail with little more to say on the situation.
“We can find you a nice guy,” your best friend says with a smile and a certain cheekiness to her.
“Like Hongjoong.”
First it's a crashing sound, followed by a pointed 'fuck' and turning to follow where the sounds had come from, the sight before you being your ex planted back to the floor, wheels of his chair having given out from beneath him — and a nasty gash in the tip of his finger from the knife once toyed with.
“Are you okay?” you ask, relatively unbothered by the sight before you as Chaerin jogs off to retrieve the first aid kid.
“What's wrong with your friend?”
“How much time do you have?” you chuckle, implication of 'a lot' heavy in the answer. A playful huff from the man following as the blonde woman arrives back with a large enough bandage for the wound and something to disinfect it.
“Someone's jittery.” She says with a knowing grin, which Hongjoong pointedly avoids looking at.
“I drink a lot of coffee.”
“Why did you guys break up, anyway?”
As silence befalls the mechanic shop, you slowly glance towards the woman next to you, flashing a look that says a thousand words in and of itself, but most importantly being: what are you doing right now?
Chaerin mouths “what?” back to you, as if Hongjoong isn't lying just in front of the both of you and fully capable of seeing the display before him, he finally rolls his eyes with a huff — more than exhausted of the situation already.
“Her parents hated me, okay?” he begins, wincing as the tight bandage wraps around his open wound. “Guess I look a little too much like a guy who does illegal street racing for fun and has a DUI.”
Silence again, and you think for a moment that perhaps Hongjoong's admission a bit too raw and unfiltered for what Chaerin had anticipated — a teasing that had begun rather lighthearted, now seemingly serving as a tool for the mans emotional release. It's not much, but for someone who doesn't talk about his feelings all that much, you know how much it really is, and from the way the words sound on the edge of broken by the end of the sentence, most definitely coming from a place of genuine hurt.
“Well,” she begins, and you figure that she's doing it out of a feeling of obligation — the need to respond to something so open and honest, to not leave him hanging. “Parents can be wrong—“
Her eyes now switching to flash to you as she says it.
“—but anyways, it's a good thing there's no races tonight because that's probably gonna hurt like a bitch for a couple of days. I'd recommend staying off of it and not—“
“We never stopped sleeping together.”
It's Hongjoong that you look at first — the man sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and eyes widening at the words as he slowly turns to look at you with a face that asks 'right, what's all this, then?' and after, it's Chaerin that you glance towards — hers not all that different from Hongjoong's, although you think that if you look hard enough, you can see a sense of having already suspected as much through her features.
If she had thought as much, she keeps it to herself, opting instead to clear her throat and yank Hongjoong back up to his feet with her as the three of you stand up from the concrete floor.
“Never stopped as in...?” She inquires, curious of the exact timeline in relation to Yunho.
“Think we stopped seeing each other for like—“ you pause to think as you glance towards your ex next to you, still relatively shell-shocked by the whole ordeal. You shrug and sigh simultaneously. “A week, after we broke up?”
“So, you've always...since Yunho...”
Lips pulled into a thin line as you're forced to admit such, you nod gently — far from proud of your misdoings, but acknowledging them all the same.
“Wow,” your friend chimes out, eyes wide still with the gathering of new information. Hands pressed to her hips as another layer of quiet wafts over the three of you — Hongjoong not dare speaking out of turn in events such as this — neither of you have to, not with Chaerin around.
“Thank god! It's what he fucking deserves. Fuck that guy.”
Laughing nervously, you understand where she's coming from, of course: as your best friend, and a friend of Hongjoong's much more so now than earlier, to know that Yunho has been repeatedly done wrong in such a way feels a bit like a breath of fresh air — an understanding that through everything that he's put everyone else through, there is still some semblance of justice — somewhere, somehow.
You don't necessarily agree with the feeling, guilt and disgusting swirling around deep in your chest every time you're forced to acknowledge the fact, but perhaps it's admitting to it out loud that will give you the strength to do something with it.
And everything else aside, you've wondered how much of Hongjoong's truth laid bare for you that night on top of the mountain with his confession to you.
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The least that you can ask of Yunho — and everyone else involved, for that matter, is for one night where nothing goes wrong.
You're thankful that even in never verbally requesting of it, it seems as though the stars aligned themselves all the same — everyone on their best behavior, and a casual car meet night starting and ending without an argument, or otherwise nasty words exchanged.
The looks are unavoidable — Spirals, Chaerin and the like in Yunho's direction — something he most definitely picks up on yet chooses not to comment. Surprising, for him. A man that always has something to say, including and almost especially in circumstances where it's him that's in the wrong.
But tonight? Nothing.
You heed your boyfriends request: not really with intention of actually doing so, that is, allowing him to control who it is that you can and cannot have contact with, but rather to keep the evening smooth and mellow.
It was a conversation that would see reopening.
“Hey,” you whisper, hand reaching over the center console of his vehicle to wrap delicate fingers around his forearm. “We should talk.”
Putting the car into drive and waving off his friends just before pulling off, you study his face as he remains silent from just next to you — jaw tight and lips pressed thin as he stares ahead — it's as if he's driving, sitting entirely still in the emptying parking garage used as tonight’s meeting place.
Sighing, Yunho closes his eyes for a moment as if to collect himself. You brace for impact.
“I'm sorry.”
And you figure that surprising would be an understatement, eyebrows pushing together as you take in the words just as they left his mouth. Foot pressing to the pedal now as the car slowly drives the both of you off, the man sighs again. “I shouldn't put my hands on you. Not ever. I'm sorry.”
You sort of knew that it was well beyond the scope of what even he finds to be acceptable-assholery, not that it excuses the behavior, but an apology for the goings on feels the least surprising of all of the other potential things the man could have been issuing it for.
Controlling behavior is okay, but he draws the line at getting physical. Guess it's something.
Not enough, though.
“Yeah,” you quietly reply back, not wanting to absolve him of it, nor do you really wish to accept his apology for it. Forgiveness for some things feeling well beyond your scope — suppose it would file under unforgivable. Something that Yunho would have to make peace with on his own time.
“That why you were on your best behavior tonight?” You ask, tone playful but sort of meaning it, also.
Your boyfriend chuckles at the words as the car slows to a halt for a red light just ahead.
“Yeah, kind of,” he says quickly, not needing time to mull it over at all. “I feel bad, it's fucked up—“
Pausing, Yunho leans forward to look out and through his windshield towards something a bit up ahead before sitting back again and glancing to his side at you. “—Mind if I kidnap you for a bit?” he asks with a gentle smile.
Suppose Jeong Yunho serves as your own blind spot.
Car parked in a nearby, open, parking lot — only a handful of street lights illuminating the area, but enough so that it doesn't feel secluded — the man next to you sits back against his custom seat more comfortably, head resting back as well just before turning to face you and stretching his arm out now against the center of the vehicle towards you in and effort to request for your hand in his.
You oblige.
Inhaling heavily — you await the words that seem to linger just on his tongue, the vision of a man still thinking through every thought before allowing them to exit through his mouth — you wonder, if perhaps it's the first time of him having done so. Yunho, so quick with words and thoughtless actions and selfishness, now contemplating everything in a whole new way, a way that you think, perhaps, you've never seen from him before.
“You know I just want what's best for you, right?”
Yuck.
Words carrying into your ears and twisting deep inside your stomach as if doused with poison themselves, it's not at all what you had been hoping to hear: it's an explanation for him being the way he is — it's an implication that you should need him to help you make decisions, to act right, to be good for him, because certainly you're incapable of doing it yourself.
For whatever reason, the memories of when the two of you first started dating come flooding back to you. Holding hands while shopping and movie nights late at your place with your parents home (previously uncharted waters, but your mother liked him so much she allowed it for him), a hand on your thigh when he took you out for a ride in his car, but nothing too dangerous — the assumption that he wouldn't be able to live with himself should anything happen to you while with him.
When perhaps he was the danger itself all along.
But it makes it hard nonetheless. It's never easy when there is love there, memories there — a history. You cared for Yunho, in all of the ways that a girlfriend does, no matter how wronged or slighted or for how long — it's difficult sometimes, to do what's best for oneself when knowing it to be the severance of so many others.
“We should break up.”
But you have to, anyways. Above all else.
You choose to stare forward out of the windshield in front of you — a vivid recollection of the way Hongjoong had you not so long ago just there springing up and into the forefront of your mind as if some cruel reminder that you not be the saint you wish to paint yourself as — that you're not a victim in all of this, not completely.
With dark red hair in your peripheral vision, you see the man dip his head down.
Then delicately pull his hand from your own.
But Yunho opts out of a verbal response, instead using his newly freed hand to start the ignition of his car once again and toss it into reverse. Panic sets in, although, you're not entirely sure why.
“Yunho—“
“I heard you.”
A response curt and lacking any emotion beyond anger, you find it in yourself to finally look towards him fully — jaw clenched hard as you're so used to seeing on him, and eyes narrow with indignation.
Stilling the car again and jamming the shift into drive much rougher than he had been before, he begins pulling off and back onto the road — it's towards your home, that much you are thankful — but you don't imagine the ride there will remain this quiet, either.
“Why?” he asks suddenly, now driving a tad bit faster than before. It's nothing especially dangerous, but you note it all the same. Yunho doesn't give you time to answer, though, before adding onto the inquiry with another thought of his own. “Because I grabbed your arm?”
He sounds stressed, voice pitchier than usual given his typically smoother, deep tone — perhaps panicked at being faced with the dissolution of the relationship.
And just as you're about to answer him, he continues on again.
“Because of him?”
You know who he means without the dropping of the name.
“You can't tell me who I can and can't hang out with, Yunho—“
“You're choosing him over me? Over us? You already broke up with that fucking loser once, how many times do you have to do it before it sticks?”
“It's not about Hongjoong.”
Sort of a lie.
“Then it shouldn't matter that I don't want you hanging out with your stupid ass ex. You miss a guy with a fuckin' DUI? Are you stupid?”
Yunho's tone raising louder and louder, anger bubbling quickly in the confined space of the vehicle, you want nothing more than to be free from the clutches of being there with him.
Sure, you had anticipated the break up to not go over well, but perhaps it was heading into territory you weren't quite ready for.
It's then that the fuel light pops on on Yunho's dashboard — slamming his palm against the steering wheel in frustration at all of these circumstances culminating annoyingly at once, he cusses to himself under his breath before looking just up ahead and on the right for a gas station open.
But what really causes your heart to do a nose dive into your stomach, is the visual of Hongjoong's car pulled up to gas pump three.
“Well, would you look at that,” Yunho sing-songs sarcastically as he pulls in, a man with silver hair just exiting the shop with a bottle of water and keys in hand before briefly looking up just enough to notice the scene before him. “Perfect timing.”
And now you know that tonight is going to be a problem.
Pulling up to gas pump two, Hongjoong slows just to the side of his car before hopping into the drivers seat — as if having some sort of sixth sense of there being a problem — carefully eyeing the EVO as it stills to a halt on the other side of the median separating you.
When Yunho slams the shift into park, the only word exiting his mouth is “out.”
For once, you're thrilled to be taking his direction.
Hopping out of the car with quickness, you shoot Hongjoong a look that says 'there's a problem' that you know has him watching the situation even more intently as he eyes the taller of the two getting out of his vehicle. A loud slamming of his car door — much louder and rougher than he would ever handle his car under normal circumstances — you watch as your ex grits his teeth as Yunho steps towards the two of you and meets Hongjoong face to face with a grin.
Nodding his head towards you, Yunho speaks first. “Ya know this one just broke up with me.”
Hongjoong snorts through his nose at the words, never faltering in his eye contact with the man in front of him. “'Bout time.”
Brave, you think. If Yunho put hands on you then you know he's not above putting Hongjoong on his ass, either.
A slow blink concealing the roll of his eyes as he nods at the words, Yunho keeps his crooked grin plastered across his face. “Big talk for a guy going nowhere, with nothing — you think you're big 'cause you got the girl? Over my dead body.”
You don't know entirely what he means by that. Intention to pursue you in spite of it all? An unwillingness to let the relationship go? A cold chill firing through your blood at the implications of what it means, you warm slightly at the sound of the silver haired man just next to you laughing at the words as he digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes — unable to light it due to their current whereabouts.
Hongjoong's eyebrow quirking up at the words as he takes them in — it's a look that almost explicitly explains all of the ways in which he does not take the tallest of the two seriously, in any way. You find it almost comforting, that perhaps he knows something you don't, and thus, you have little to worry about — but with a man known for acting on impulse and making rather poor decisions, who can really tell.
“What're you gonna do?” he questions, cigarette lazily dangling between his lips. “Make her be in a relationship with you, stupid?”
Jaw tense, Yunho steps towards Hongjoong slowly — the movement spiking your anxiety, but cool as a cucumber, the man remains in place with his behind gently pressed against his car and arms folded across his chest.
“If I want something, then it's mine,” he whispers — tone oozing of smugness and superiority.
For the first time ever, you think that Yunho is letting the charade go in full — no more plausible deniability about him being ultimately good or right underneath it all. The real him. This is who he is.
Waving his hand in the warm, late night air, as if evidencing their surroundings to prove his point despite no one else being around. “Maybe you've noticed, with my little collection of your friends' useless tin cans.”
Knowing Spirals and Yunho's propensity to take from them, you know it's a sore spot for Hongjoong, so watching the way in which the leader only drops his chin down to his chest with a grin before cocking his head to the side and glancing back up at the tallest of the three of you — you're unsure of what to expect.
But Hongjoong being so cool about it is probably a bad sign, based on what you know.
“Funny,” he says finally, inhaling sharply before pulling his arms apart again to rifle through his keys for the one leading to his car.
“'Cause if that were true I wouldn't have been laying into her the whole time y'all were together.”
The result comes on quicker than you expect — a fast and strong right hook to Hongjoong's jaw sending him almost barreling across the side of his own vehicle at the contact — Yunho breathing heavily as he rubs at his sore and potentially broken set of knuckles. the man glancing at you and for a second, you worry if you may also meet the same consequence as your mouthy ex, but without a word, and red hair swaying in the wind, Yunho only turns to head back towards his car.
No longer in his sights, you rush over to Hongjoong, delicately touching the place of impact and checking for mobility as he opens and closes his mouth with a wince. “God, he hits like a pussy, too. Unbelievable.”
“Hongjoong.” You whine, because god forbid the man delivering the assault overhear the comment.
“Hey!” Hongjoong shouts, and if you had known him to wish to say more, you'd have done everything in your power to stop him, but with the words already out there, your eyes widen at him, a nonverbal plead to shut the fuck up.
“Race me next Saturday,” he yells, still awkward with his damaged jaw but confident and pointed all of the same. “Not someone in my crew, me. If I win, you leave her the fuck alone and you leave town. That's it.”
You can't see the man, only the sound of him having opened the car door to go off of in relation to his whereabouts, but you hear nothing from behind you for what feels like eons. Then...
“And if I win?”
Pausing to spit out blood and hopefully not a tooth accompanying it to the ground just between his black boots, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the words come out far too confidently than you'd like them to, especially because you know him to have every intention of keeping his word.
“Then I leave. You get the car, the girl, the team, everything.”
A heavy gust of wind barreling through as silence overtakes the situation, silently pleading with Hongjoong through looks to not agree to this, to not go through with it — looks that you know the man to be purposefully avoiding in his reluctance to make eye contact with you as he asserts the deal — you don't feel any better knowing that the man is willing to put everyone on the line for you, or for whatever this is.
It's reckless, and it's dangerous, and there's got to be another way.
“See you next Saturday.” Yunho says with a tone so matter of a fact, before thrusting himself into his car and taking off just as fast.
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When Saturday rolls around, it leaves you wondering where the time went between then and now.
Riding passenger side in Hongjoong's RX-7, you mull over the the happenings of the week leading up to now: countless hours leading into days spent at the mechanics shop with him, Chaerin and the rest of the Spirals team — testing and preparing his car for the impending race with everything and then some riding on it, the anticipation bubbles in your gut in a way that you're unfamiliar with — a race with far too much behind it, more than necessary, and it leaves you wondering why it is that the man driving next to you is willing to give everything up for what effectively boils down to one thing: you.
But with almost no down time between the declaration and the race — Hongjoong spending many nights at the shop, curled up asleep on the cold, beat up, leather couch inside instead of opting to bother with the travel time home when he knows he'll only end up back there early in the morning anyways — it leaves no time for the conversation.
A silent acknowledgment between you, him, and everyone else on your side of the equation.
Trailing behind Chaerin's RX-8 and pulling into the all too familiar roadside lot of the uphill racing track that serves to be Hongjoong's favorite, you figure that the two of them must have hashed it out unbeknownst to you — or it was some sort of understanding between racers for this to be the place that it would happen. The track. Not the most difficult, nor the one offering top speeds (and for that, it could be raced downhill, anyways), but rather the one feeling just right for the sort of situation.
Yunho too proud to decline the invitation to beat Hongjoong on his home terf, his favorite track, the one known to be his best — and Hongjoong all too confident to feel that he could ever be beaten on it.
Setting the car into park, you dare not speak as Hongjoong takes in a deep breath through the silence — a rowdy crowd of racers and onlookers alike heard easily from all around you outside of the car — it feels almost claustrophobic, suffocating in some way, being surrounded by people and the impending happenings of the evening.
Hongjoong looks calm and collected, however.
One hand loosening from the steering wheel to card through short, silver hair before unceremoniously plopping it onto his thigh with a flat palm, he lies his head back against the rest of his seat, turning to look at you finally with a shockingly soft expression.
“Should probably have a talk, huh?”
You can't help the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at the implications of the words. Delicate and caring. You nod.
“You're really just gonna move if you lose a race?” You ask, tone pointed with resistance in the thought of it, but the man next of you pulls his eyes away, head turning back to look out and in front of him at the passersby.
“To be honest,” he starts, thinking through the words a bit more before carrying on. “If guys like that are going to set up shop around here then maybe my time here has run out anyways, maybe it's time to move on.”
“You sound far more willing than I ever expected. You love this town.”
Hearing the exhale through his nose as if amused by the prospect of it, Hongjoong reaches forward and across you into his dashboard, rifling through papers and an empty water bottle in search of something, finally pulling an envelope with no wording sprawled across it — only an emblem.
Placing it on your lap, he nods for you to open it, but not before point out and into the crowd.
“See that guy over there with the hat? Red jacket.”
Squinting, you attempt to follow his finger with your eyes, gazing out and through the crowding of people for whoever it is that the man next to you is wishing for you to locate, all the while digging out whatever it is from this envelope that you're meant to see.
Hongjoong carries on with the thought before you do. “Those red jackets are special, custom order jackets. No one has those. You can't get them.”
“Okay...” you hesitantly acknowledge, finally landing on the man in question. Arms crossed and seemingly alone, he's looking onward — at the track, at the surroundings, and finally, over to the both of you. Nodding in your direction, Hongjoong nods back at him.
“Ever heard of Project D?” He asks.
“Uh, rings a bell. Think I've heard Yunho or Chaerin talk about it, why?”
Hongjoong snorts at the drop of names before speaking again, as if unsurprised by the ones mentioned as having any sort of interest. “Read the letter.”
A questioning look splashing across your features, you do as advised, pulling from his attention and down towards the piece of paper in your hands. It takes you some time to go through it, and then, another moment from reading it over again — because you're quite sure that you must have read something wrong, must have gone through this with a bit of wishful thinking and a simple wanting so badly of things to go good, and right.
But with the second read through and confidence in your reading comprehension, your attention snaps back up and towards Hongjoong — a wide grin sported on his face.
“This...this is—“ you manage to stutter out, heart threatening to beat through your chest entirely as he turns to meet your eyes again.
“Indeed. Turns out someone thinks this guy can drive a car,” he sighs with a sort of nonchalance that has you so taken aback you aren't even sure what to say or think.
Project D. The upper echelon of street racing. Entirely closed off, and run on a strict 'don't call us, we'll call you' type of basis. It's professional, and the dream for just about anyone involved in the sport. a one way ticket out of here, that much is for certain.
So unfamiliar to the common driver that no one here even recognizes the shining red jacket only adorned by drivers on the team.
“His name is Takahashi Ryosuke,” Hongjoong begins again, lazily having a hand out towards the man referenced only a moment ago. “He's the leader of Project D, he came to see me drive. I'm already in, but it's sort of a formality, plus, he's gotta give me my jacket.”
You pause, thinking it through in your mind again and trying to take it all in.
“In front of Yunho?”
Hongjoong laughs, a full laugh at the question. “In front of Yunho.”
Head lying back once again on the headrest of his seat and rolling gently to grant him vision of you — you watch the way his eyes fan over your features, as if taking all of them in for the first time all over again — as if it were to be the first or last time that he would ever see them, and with the calling to action of the racers needing to line up, it pulls your attention up and away with the abruptness of it, but not his — still watching you intently as if trying to read every thought floating through your mind in that very moment.
You figure it's no surprise that you ended up here, with him, like this tonight — all of his plans, everything he does perfectly in line with something that he has in mind — some sort of grand scheme of sorts, and you can't help but wonder for how long it's revolved around you.
'Racers line up, 5 until green!'
Turning back to look at Hongjoong, small hand with painted black fingernails reaching out and towards your own, he grips tightly atop one of them and squeezes lightly just before pulling it from you and shifting his car into drive again.
“So,” he starts, waving towards Ryosuke again before carefully maneuvering his vehicle towards the starting line of the track for a race that means nothing and everything to the both of you simultaneously.
“Want to take a ride with me?”
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´。• ᵕ •。`)
—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
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blues824 · 10 months
Note
♡.•° To Dearest Blues824 :
Heya! My Brain Was Going Places And Was Thinking About The Dorm Head's With An Alastor (From Hazbin Hotel) Like Reader? :D
☆.•° - You Can Call Me Stardust Anon If Ya Want!
I see what you did there, Stardust Anon! 
Gender-neutral reader, supposed to be platonic since Alastor is aromantic, but can be interpreted as romantic. Cursing, 1920’s slang because I’m good at it.
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Riddle Rosehearts
You were definitely very loud and boisterous, but he just chalked it up to your radio personality that was typically required of you. Aside from that, the two of you got along quite well with each other. You both used the same sort of formal language, but you did not know how to use a phone. You actually hated it a lot, and the Housewarden found it rather amusing.
One thing he found absolutely infuriating about you was how you thought the Queen’s Rules were absolutely laughable. However, since you were a demon, you were able to memorize each of them and went along with them out of pure boredom. But, when someone was disrespecting the rules, you wouldn’t hesitate to resort to violence. Riddle has had to tell you that the punishment for breaking a rule would simply be a collar rather than a black eye and a bruise about their neck, but you shrugged your shoulders with a smile and went on with your day like normal.
He could tell that you were from a different time period, since you often used slang that was popular in the 1920’s. Even in Twisted Wonderland, it existed. You once caught him while he was doing his makeup and you asked why he was getting ‘all dolled up’. The question caught him by surprise, as he had never heard any of his peers ask it like that before. 
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Leona Kingscholar
He absolutely despised you. He thought you were too loud, and you often disrupted his naps along with the annoying hunter. Like, you were right next to him. You didn’t need to use your weird-ass microphone to project your voice to the cosmos. He may be sleeping, but he can hear you when you speak normally.
During his overblot, you were not afraid to use your power as a demon and as an Overlord of Hell to put an end to it within seconds. Actually, someone had to stop you so that you didn’t kill Leona. In the infirmary, you apologized and said that old habits die hard. His eyes widened when he asked about and processed what in the actual fuck you just said and you just laughed before leaving the room.
There was one time where you had invited him to walk to your classes with you, but he refused and said that he would much rather be sleeping. You told him to not be such a pill, and he was so confused. Bro looked it up, and was then offended that you called him boring in a 1920’s sort of way. Now he just calls you ‘gramps’ because you’re old.
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Azul Ashengrotto
Also despised how loud you were, and thought that the microphone you carried with you was excessive. However, the first time he saw you quiet was when you told him that you were the one that did the deals around here and benefitted from them. Now he prefers your boisterous self more than your quiet self.
He has seen your secretly violent nature when Floyd snuck up behind you to try and squeeze you. A tendril came up from out of the ground and wrapped itself around the tweel’s neck, and it started to suffocate him. Azul was absolutely horrified as he screamed at you to stop, but you just had your big smile on your face. The only way he was able to tell that you weren’t happy was how you said, through gritted teeth, that you did not appreciate the eel’s actions.
One thing about you that always leaves the cecaelia confused was the slang you used. Like, you once compared the Mostro Lounge to a speakeasy, but instead of selling liquor he was selling dreams at the cost of a [most likely illegal] contract. He was about to say something about underage drinking when he remembered that you were a demon who has been alive since before the 30’s. That being said, you were of-age.
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Kalim Al-Asim
It was Jamil who told him to stay away from you, but you just looked so friendly. Imagine him as a more ditzy version of Charlie, and Jamil as Vaggie. However, you had no plans to take advantage of him. He had nothing to take advantage of, or nothing that you wanted at least, as you were already the Housewarden of Ramshackle.
Your violent side came out when you saw that the Vice Housewarden of Scarabia was hypnotizing Kalim. You used your magic and held him by the throat (much like Darth Vader) and leaned in close. You made his vision go staticky and said that if he were to do something that you did not agree with, there would be heavy consequences to pay. It was fortunate that Kalim was not there to see your little threat.
The young Al-Asim was always awe-struck by the 1920’s terminology you often used. You told him that Jamil was such a wet blanket and Kalim had no idea what you just said. You explained that a wet blanket was someone who was a killjoy or a ‘party pooper’, to make it a bit more modern for him to understand.
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Vil Schoenheit
He could tell that your happy and friendly persona was really a mask. After all, it takes an actor to know an actor. However, you seemed to have even Rook fooled, so he had to give you kudos for your act. He didn’t tip anyone off either, but it’s not like you would have minded being known as the most powerful being within Twisted Wonderland.
You showed your relentless and more sadistic side when Vil made a rather passive-aggressive remark about the way you dressed. Sure, it was a bit older and on the more formal side, but that gave him no right. So you used a tendril from Hell to snatch him off the ground and emphasize your point and say that it was better than the pool of fabric he called an ‘outfit’. You also said that any snide statement about you again and it would result in his untimely death and arrival in Hell.
The only reason why he knew about your slang was the fact that he had to play the role of a mobster in the 1920’s before in a movie. He’s even translated for you when you said that his outfit to match you was swanky. He said something about how he wanted to put on the Ritz for the upcoming photoshoot, and Epel just stared at the two of you, confused as to what the fuck you were saying.
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Idia Shroud
You reminded him of a character from a popular show, and you had the microphone, suit, and smile to match. Honestly, he reminded you of a certain god of the underworld, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. That aside, you both were the exact opposite of each other. You were really loud and extroverted, while he was really quiet and introverted. You often liked teasing him and making him flustered and just moving on like it was nothing, and it left him with a whirlwind of emotions.
The one time you showed your aggressive side was during the time where the Phantom Bride kidnapped him. The only one who could torment your dear friend was you, and not some dame dolled up to the Ritz who was already bumped off the Flivver. Now, you typically were one to make some snide remark, but you were past that. There was no reason to bump gums when none of the other Housewardens were helping Idia out of his rather strange predicament.
He was surprised when you had summoned a tentacled monster of some sort and you threatened to have the ‘little’ monster drag them to Hell for interfering with matters in the overworld. Eliza let out a shriek as she hid behind Puffy and Gramps, shaking out of fear upon recognition of your name. You were one of the Overlords of Hell, after all.
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Malleus Draconia
You were rather amusing, at least according to the dragon prince. You were also much more powerful than him, a fact that only his retainers found absolutely horrifying. Instead, he was actually very interested in you. You dressed and talked in a much different way than he did, but it was very… snazzy?... as you once said.
The more demonic side that you had made its debut during each of the overblots, and every time someone had a problem that they wanted you to deal with. You made it a point to emphasize time and time again that you were a demon who would do charity work when you wanted to, not when someone asked. After all, you needed some form of entertainment, and this was not it. Malleus often offers to order his knights to stop people from harassing you, but you told him, in a grim and menacing way, that you would love to give them a painful reminder.
One time, as you both were going on a typical nightly walk, he asked if you could show him what your time period was like. So, you being you, broke into a jazzy musical number as you used your magic to bring him into a little scene from the 20’s. He was dressed in a similar suit as you, and you used your mic to sing a song about what exactly happened in the world and to you right up until your death. Honestly, he didn’t really care that you were a cannibal. As a member of the royal family within Briar Valley, nothing phases him anymore.
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asirensrage · 8 months
Text
Hindsight - Haitani Ran x Reader Oneshot
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Title: Hindsight Rating: Mature Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Haitani Ran x Undescribed!Female Reader (side of Takeomi x reader's sister) Warnings: Dark!Fic. Dubcon in terms of forced relationships. Obsession. Swearing. Mention of illegal activities and threats. Mention of proposals and pregnancy. Being used as collateral. Unbeta'd. Word count: ~2400 Summary: You were always going to end up here. She was never going to be allowed to leave and you were just lucky that he saw you as more than just collateral. Based on the prompt: "It doesn't matter what you think. You're mine. You always have been."
Notes: I wrote this all last night. Once I started, I couldn't stop. The idea of being used as collateral for someone else, especially to keep them in a relationship, has been in my mind for a while and I wanted to write a oneshot for Ran. So put them together and this is how it turned out. It's a bit sad when you actually think about it...so be warned.
Find a longer smut-filled rewrite here!
Heed the warnings!
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You can’t help but wonder if your sister looks at the events that have led you both here and regrets it. After all, the only reason you ended up here was because of her. You were the good one. You were trying to do things right but it didn’t matter. She was your sister and no matter where she went, you ended up following. 
An arm lands on your shoulders, pulling you in against a chest. You feel his lips press against your hair. “Not hiding from me, are you?”
You force yourself to try to relax, even as you wrap your arms around your waist. You’re not used to the dress you’re wearing and despite the warmth of him, you’re still cold. “Just getting some air,” you finally say. 
“Come. Takeomi’s here.”
You look at him at that. With Takeomi came your sister. How long has it been since you’ve seen each other? She tried to escape the last time, tried to plan a distraction to get you far away from Bonten as possible. It didn’t work. You don’t know what happened except that her punishment was more severe than yours. The two of you had been barred from seeing each other for weeks. 
“See? I can be nice,” he says, turning you back and leading you into the building. 
“I know.” You say it because that’s what he wants to hear. 
The party is still going strong when you go inside. Thankfully it’s not one of the clubs he likes to drag you to. Instead, you’re playing arm candy as he charms some of the important people of Japan who are already neck-deep involved with Bonten. Most of them made that choice freely. It makes you a little sick if you think about it. Your gaze slides over the crowd until you see the one person you’re searching for. 
“Can I go see her?” you ask. 
He doesn’t say yes but he does wrap his arm around your waist and takes you toward them. When you get close, you can see her properly for the first time in months. She looks terrible but the only reason you can tell is because you know her so well. Her makeup is perfect and the dress fits her like a glove, but she’s a little thinner than she used to be and you can see how her eyes are less vibrant. Takeomi has an arm wrapped around her, his other hand holds a cigarette and drink. It looks casual and flirty but you know that it’s a chain. A sign of ownership as clear as the necklace you wear. 
Takeomi had fallen for your sister when you were young, promised that he’d take care of her, of both of you, and then never let her go. As much as she tried to keep you a secret, you found yourself dragged in front of the Executives to officially meet them. Your sister couldn’t meet your eyes that night and Ran hadn’t left you alone since. 
Your heart clenches at the way your sister looks to Takeomi for permission and you move forward before she can ask for permission. You couldn’t bear to hear it. Ran lets you out of his grasp and you hug her tightly. She clutches you back just as hard. 
“You okay?” you ask softly. 
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah.”
You let go, stepping back into Ran’s embrace and leaning against him. A small price for the favour he’s granted you. He holds you as tightly as Takeomi holds her. 
“Didn’t think you were coming,” Ran says, smiling at Takeomi. “Didn’t you say these things weren’t your scene?”
“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” the other man answers. “Especially since your brother is otherwise…occupied.” He glances at you. “We have news for you too.”
“Me?” You blink and look between him and your sister. She straightens and smiles. It doesn’t look forced, reminding you of what she was like when they were first together. Before she found out how deeply involved he was. Before she was forced to introduce you to them all. 
Your sister reaches out and touches your hand. “Not here. We’ll plan something soon, okay? Get together just the…four of us. Then we can talk, okay?” 
“Okay,” you agree. There’s no new ring on her finger so it can’t be that. Besides, you’re the only one left in the family and Takeomi seems old-fashioned enough to ask for the family’s blessing before he proposes. You hope. Not that saying no would make any difference. 
“Come on, darling,” Ran says, pulling you away. “Let’s continue our rounds.” 
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When you get home, you’re exhausted. Your heart aches. Mingling with people who praise Bonten, as if they don’t know half the shit these men have their hands in, wears you down. It’s partly why you hate going to them. The other half is having to play up being Ran’s loving partner. At least at home, you don’t have to pretend. 
You go through the motions, placing your heels in your shoe closet, removing your jewelry and attempting to undo the zipper on your dress before giving in and searching for him. Ran is in the bathroom, already running the bath and undressing himself. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and despite knowing why you’ve come to him, he waits until you ask. 
“Can you get my zipper? Please?” 
His reflection smirks before he moves behind you. You grab your hair, pulling it out of the way. His fingers brush along the collar before he holds one edge and slowly pulls down the zipper. Fingers trail softly along your spine before he leans down and kisses your neck. “You were so good tonight,” he murmurs. “So beautiful. You know how many of those men wanted to take you home? To fuck you?” 
“No,” you say softly. His words are nothing new. He loves being the center of attention and having other people’s jealousy just adds to it. That’s why he dresses you in the most fashionable clothes he can buy. He thinks you’re sexy and wants everyone else to see it too. 
“And only I get that honour.” He tilts your head back so he can kiss you. You lean into it, opening your mouth so he can deepen it like you know he wants. “Come on,” he says when he finally breaks it. “The water is just the way you like it.” 
He helps you out of your clothes and motions you to the bath. It’s hot, but just as hot as Ran can stand. It’s not enough to burn him out of your skin. You sink into it, closing your eyes as you lean back. You can hear the soft sounds of Ran undressing, his clothes hitting the floor before he picks them up and folds them. The two of you are the same in that way, taking care of the things you have because you know what it means to not have any of them. 
“You gonna give me some space?” he teases and you open your eyes, moving forward automatically. The water splashes as he moves in behind you. It takes some positioning before the two of you are comfortable, but the bathtub is large enough to fit both of you. He made sure of it once you told him how much you prefer them. 
Ran moves you to lean back against him. You’re warm and comfortable and tired. His fingers follow maps against your skin that only he knows. You close your eyes and try to relax, but your mind replays the image of your sister. 
He kisses your neck. “What are you thinking about?”
“My sister. Just wondering what they want to talk about.”
“Maybe they’ll get married.”
You try to look at him. “You think so?”
“That or he finally knocked her up.” 
You freeze. A child would be permanent. You know your sister. There’d be no leaving with that. Not that either of you were ever getting away from these men. They had a chokehold on both of you. 
“You like that idea?” He murmurs against your skin. “Want one of our own?” 
“I–” you swallow tightly. “I don’t know. I never thought of kids.” It’s a lie. You don’t want one. You don’t want his. “Have you?”
His hand moves to splay his fingers across your stomach. “You’d look fucking hot pregnant.” It’s not an answer. “But then, you’ve always looked hot.”
You lean back against him. “You think we’re going to be together forever?” you ask softly. 
“Yes,” he answers with complete self-assuredness. He stills though when you don’t answer. “What? You don’t agree?” There’s a tension in his tone that warns you. 
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” 
“It doesn’t matter what you think. You’re mine. You always have been.” The words come so easily, like he doesn’t condemn you every time he says it. 
“Always?” You can’t help but ask. You remember meeting the Executives and the way your sister whispered to you to stay quiet and not noticeable. She said to let her do the talking. She was going to introduce you and then you’d leave and she’d take you out to lunch in payment. 
You already knew Takeomi from her dating him. You liked him well enough, he occasionally took both of you out and made his own younger sister join so you’d have someone near your age to talk to when your sister brought you over. 
He introduced you to his coworkers. They weren’t that much older than you at the time, mid-twenties to your early twenties, but Ran flirted with you the moment your sister was distracted. You tried to keep your promise, to stay silent and uninteresting, but he flustered you and you both knew it. By the time you left, it was too late. Nothing your sister could do protected you from his interest. 
“I knew you before we met,” he says. “Takeomi was always happy to go home to his long-term girlfriend and one day, he showed us pictures of some outing he took you both on when you were younger. Before Bonten was a thing. You were so cute,” he reaches up and pinches your cheek, laughing when you swat him away. “When he said your sister was thinking of leaving him, adamant to keep you out of it, well…we were all interested. I just got there first.” 
You frown at that. It’s likely not the complete truth. He never tells you the complete truth, but there’s enough in it for you to decipher. Takeomi was the one who gave you up. Likely in an effort to control your sister, especially since she had admitted she was considering breaking things off. It was getting too dangerous. But once Ran had you in his sights, you got swept into their current and there was no escape for the two of you. There never would be. 
“Let’s wash up and get to bed. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t have to go in tomorrow. You get me all to yourself,” he teases. 
“Just what I wanted.” If he hears the sarcasm in your voice, he ignores it. You reach for the soap and hand it back to him.
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Despite all his flamboyance and desire for fame, the one thing you know you can appreciate about Ran is his desire to sleep. He keeps your bed as comfortable as possible, including the highest quality sheets he can find. It’s tempting to sink into it, but once you dry off, you sit on the edge of the bed and grab the lotion. Ran takes it from you and kneels. You watch as he rests one of your feet on his leg and lathers the cream on. He does it carefully, even though you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. He takes his time to make sure you're taken care of. It would be sweet if you had come into this relationship more naturally, if you didn’t know that there was always going to be the threat hanging above your head, waiting for the final wrong move you make. 
“Come on,” he says when he’s done. “Let’s get some sleep.” 
You’re not sure if it’s relief or regret that settles in your stomach. You expected his touch, wanted the escape of the pleasure he’d bring. He knew exactly how to make you crumble, how to make you beg for a release only he would provide. Ran liked to hold you on the brink until you swore that you were his, only his, and you’d never leave. You could forget everything when he touched you like that, especially the weight of the chain he held around your neck. It never seemed that bad when you were panting for breath, when you felt like he was breaking at your touch and the two of you were just lost in each other for that moment. 
You crawl in next to him and he pulls you into him, curling around you so that he can hold you. Ran inhales softly, murmuring how good you smell before he buries his face in your neck. He seems to fall asleep instantly but you know from previous experience that the moment you try to get out of bed, he’ll wake up. He always does. 
You can feel sleep pulling on you, dragging you down, but you still can’t help but think of your sister. How long will it be until you two can actually see each other again? Until you’re allowed to hang out the way you used to, without chaperones? If either of you had known this was your future, you know your sister would have never accepted that date with Takeomi just to keep you out of it. That was the problem when you got involved with gangs, after all. It was never just you. You get in deep enough and it takes everything you love with you. If only to hold it against you. 
It was a shame you couldn’t see the future then, that you couldn’t go back in time to warn yourself and your sister about the men in your lives. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Every path she’d take would have ended up here and you were always going to follow. You were always going to be lost in their promises, in his touch, in the reminder that you’ve always been his whether or not you’ve known. 
You let yourself fall asleep in his arms, cradled between your regrets and the man who claims you.
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gen taglist: @raith-way @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores
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gettingfrilly · 6 months
Text
Make it count, EddEddy Fanfic
This was supposed to be a short drabble but it got wildly out of hand. Curse my verbose nature. eddeddy, first kiss, underage drinking, rated T
"I was kind of hoping my first kiss would be enjoyable."
The steady creaking of the rusty chains next to him comes to a stop for the first time tonight, Eddy's feet planting in the dirt to cease the momentum of his swing. Edd glances over at him just as he hears the pop of the bottle neck being pulled from his lips, Eddy's brow furrowed as he looks back at him.
"What're ya on about, Dee?"
"I was just thinking," Edd starts, reaching to grab the bottle from Eddy's hand. What little condensation still clings to the brown glass has long since gone lukewarm, the liquid inside not fairing much better. Perhaps it's his own indulgence in said liquid that allows him to let his fingers linger on Eddy's a split second before he takes the bottle from him and finishes his thought. "Do you remember our creek cruise scam?"
Eddy grunts and scrunches his face, his typical reaction to a past failed scam being brought up. "Yeah, I remember."
"And do you remember when the Kankers boarded our 'ship?'"
Now Eddy's lips pucker in distaste, his typical reaction to the Kankers being mentioned. "Uh-huh."
"Well... that was when I received my first kiss. The first of several from Marie, actually." He sighs and upends the bottle, gulping his small swig down quickly to avoid actually tasting the drink as much as he can. The stale flavor still gets him, though, and he grimaces while sticking his tongue out through the gap in his teeth, not nearly as used to the taste of beer as Eddy is.
"I was reminded of it today when I was over at Ed's house. I overheard Sarah and Jimmy discussing their hopes and expectations for their own firsts." Edd continues. "I suppose it made me kind of sad. It's not something I get daydream about anymore."
And this is why he doesn't drink often. Well, other than the fact that it's illegal and immoral and he could get in huge trouble. Drinking doesn't make him lighter and bolder like Eddy, or jovial like Ed—it just makes him sad, in a dreary, pathetic kind of way. He's already the least fun of the trio, as far as he's concerned, and he's loath to further accentuate the difference between himself and his two friends. But Eddy always makes sharing a drink sound like such a good idea, same as how he manages to make everything sound like a good idea; plus there's Edd's own underhanded motivations involving lingering fingers and indirect kisses.
"That don't count." Eddy interrupts Edd's reverie in a firm voice.
"Pardon?"
"I said that don't count." Eddy takes the bottle back from him, taking his own swig. "A first kiss is something both people gotta be into. I don't count any of my Kanker kisses, and neither should you." There's a bitterness to Eddy's voice alongside the usual stubbornness, a can of worms Edd is unsure whether he wants to open or not.
"Ah... I suppose that's one way to look at it." It's the way he wants to look at it, at least. It's not the first time he's wished he could view the world a little more like Eddy, stubbornly holding onto the notion that things are going his way, or at least will be very soon, regardless of what's going on around him.
"It's the right way to look at it. So go ahead and daydream, Romeo."
Edd hums in response, then goes quiet, sitting with Eddy's surprising wisdom. Eventually he hears the old swing set start to creak again, Eddy's restless body gently swinging back and forward, only just barely lifting his feet off the ground. The old playground has made for a good night time haven in recent years, the only members of their group young enough to still have interest in the playground being Sarah and Jimmy. The new families who have started moving into the newly constructed homes this side of the lane are either still childless or have children far too young to wander into the playground alone at night. When all three of them are together for... delinquent activities, the junkyard still makes for a safer bet. When it's just the two of them, without Ed's rambunctiousness, the playground is the more convenient choice. It's also, Edd frequently likes to note, the less stinky choice, especially when considering the effects the hot summer sun has on the piles of refuse. It's much more pleasant here overall, with the illumination of the street lamps nearby and moving playground equipment to keep Eddy's body occupied.
It has been just the two of them more often, as well. Not that either of them are hanging out with Ed less; they're just hanging out with each other more, spending more nights than not decompressing together here on the swings, or on the merry-go-round, or the monkey bars, talking about school, family, friends, life. Sometimes recreational substances are involved, sometimes not—sometimes Edd partakes, sometimes he doesn't. He can't remember when exactly this started, but he knows how much he appreciates and has even started to somewhat depend on their private rendezvous. He can feel their friendship evolving into something too scary to name, a fragile in-between that could crumple in his touch if he's not careful. He can only hope Eddy feels it too.
"So, how's that daydreaming going?"
"Hm?" Edd swivels his head to look at Eddy, blinking owlishly at him, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion into his personal thoughts.
"Your smoochin' day dreams. You've been quiet for so long I figured that's what your big smart brain was up to." Eddy sends him a mischievous smirk. "Anything steamy happening up there?"
"Ah—" Curse his propensity to blush at the slightest provocation. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Eddy." He sputters.
"Prude. Come on." Eddy prods him with his (filthy, muddy, dirty) shoe, jostling his swing in the process. "Who you playin' tonsil hockey with up their? Anyone I know?" His leer and grin are downright vicious now, eyebrows bouncing so quickly Edd's surprised they don't take off in flight.
"No one! I was just thinking about how nice of a night it is. That's all, really." It's partially the truth, though he wasn't thinking about just this night in particular.
"Sure." Eddy draws the word out, unconvinced. "Well, if you won't tell me who, then what? You said you hoped it'd be enjoyable. So how ya enjoyin' it?"
Edd frowns at Eddy's uncharacteristic nosiness into this particular subject. "I really wasn't thinking about that, honest! But if it will sate your curiosity..." He sighs wistfully, looking up at the night sky. "I'd like my first kiss to be with someone I know well. Someone I'm already close to, who already understands the depths of me. Nothing rushed or awkward—just something new between two familiar souls, maybe sparking a nervous excitement. And, well, not to be shallow, but it wouldn't hurt if they were at least somewhat attractive." He tacks that on at the end, mumbling shyly as he kicks the dirt at his feet.
There's a beat of silence that leaves Edd feeling cold despite the warm summer evening air, fretting for a moment that he perhaps said too much—
"Gee, sounds familiar. Except, ya know, change the somewhat attractive part to extremely attractive and good looking and devilishly handsome."
Eddy's voice boasts the easy confidence alcohol usually brings him instead of the faux confidence he typically carries himself with. When Edd chances a glance at him, however, he finds that Eddy isn't even looking at him, face slightly turned away as he stares off into the treeline, thumbs dipping nervously in and out of the crevices of the chain links. Edd's grip on his own swing chains tightens, palms becoming slightly slicked with sweat.
"Well. Perhaps I am speaking of someone you know." He doesn't know where that came from, feeling as though his mind had been a blank canvas when the words suddenly left his mouth. Good lord, he's never drinking around Eddy again.
"Oh yeah?" Eddy perks up almost instantly, turning to face Edd again with another mischievous smirk. It's different this time, though, the razor sharp edges of his smile dulled and softened like wax under a gentle flame, leaving his mouth looking enticingly warm and pliable. His half lidded eyes make for a good match, the whole effect not unlike something fuzzy and fluffy lulling its prey into a false sense of security before the teeth and claws come out.
Good lord, he has got to drink with Eddy more often.
"Yes." Edd sounds a lot more breathless than he'd like to, his already present blush deepening in embarrassment. "Someone I'm rather close to at the moment, both figuratively and literally."
'Well, shit." Eddy laughs, placing the nearly empty beer bottle down on the ground next to the others before reaching over to grab one of the chains of Edd's swing, pulling him closer. "Kinda sounds like we want the same thing here. Yeah?" Eddy questions softly, seeking permission with thinly veiled nerves and desperation.
Edd answers him quickly with fervent nodding, eyelids falling to half mast as he subconsciously pokes his tongue out to lick suddenly dry feeling lips. "And you, Eddy? What would you like your first kiss to be like?"
"With someone who won't make fun of me if I ain't no good at it." He answers shockingly honestly in a rare show of vulnerability, causing Edd's heart to twist itself up and wring itself dry.
"I would never, Eddy."
"Good."
Eddy's free hand lands on Edd's shoulder, shifting along his sleeve until he can feel his thumb graze the side of his neck. It moves up from there, Eddy's fingers rising onto tensed tendons one by one until his thumb rests next to Edd's pink ear. The touch tickles, sending a shiver up his spine as he leans forward, eyes slipping shut when Eddy closes the distance between them.
It's dry, is the first thing Edd notes, used to the overenthusiastic wet smacks of the Kanker sisters. Dry and soft, no sticky cheap lipstick staining his skin and making him want to squirm. It's warm as well, the heat between them growing as their lips stay put instead of moving all over in feverish pecks, Eddy exhaling through his nose and further heating where they're conjoined. Then Eddy tilts his head, causing their lips to shift against each other in a way that pulls a small sound out of Edd's throat, shifting his own head in the opposite direction to get more of that belly-quivering friction.
It ends too soon, the two of them parting nervously with soft sighs, gazing at each other through their eyelashes as Edd chews his lip and Eddy squirms in his swing. After a moment, Eddy lets Edd go, taking his hand off his shoulder and releasing his chain. Edd catches a glimpse of imprints left by the chain on Eddy's palm where he gripped too tightly before looking away and at the ground, trying and failing to suppress the small smile spreading over his face.
"Well?" Eddy asks, voice back to being tinged with the faux confidence Edd is used to. "Enjoyable enough for you?"
"Mm..." Edd hums contentedly, shyly hiding his smile behind his hand. "Indeed. And you, Eddy?" he asks, glancing his way.
Eddy gives him one more smirk, side eyeing him before closing his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. "Eh."
"You—!" Edd tries to push Eddy, but just ends up making his own swing jerk to the side, arms too weak to budge Eddy's sturdy body. "You're a dog! Not a chivalrous bone in your body! I had hoped to believe that with this, at least, you would have the good graces to be somewhat of a gentleman, but it seems even now you can't resist the urge to be a jokester, a prankster, a kidder, and an all around—!"
Edd makes another attempt to push him and has the words stolen from him when Eddy grabs his wrist, laughing like a hyena without a shred of remorse. He uses his grip to pull Edd closer, flipping his arm over so he can press his lips against his wrist, hissing more laughter against his skin as Edd's breath catches in his tightening throat.
"I liked it, too, sockhead."
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lookismaddict · 1 year
Text
Lookism Chapter 432 Memes/Thoughts I Have:
(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made.)
I’d like to say, thank you for reading my reviews and thoughts for each chapter so far. And thank you for liking the memes. 😳💖 But bruh, this chapter man… There’s a lot being revealed, so let’s get into it!!! 😌✨
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Well crap. Eugene’s got some leverage on James Lee too. Wtffff 😭😭😭
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WELL… SHIT. R.I.P. JAMES LEE IS GOING TO BE U S E D ✨
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HE LOOKS SO UPSET SITTING IN THAT LOW ASS CHAIR NOW. I CAN’T GET OVER THE WAY HE’S SITTING ON THAT CHAIR FROM LAST CHAPTER. SORRY GUYS. 💀
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And let me guess, you gonna do that to James too...? 🤔 
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DAMN. HIT EM WITH THE THREAT, JAMES LMAAAOOOOOOO. THESE TWO ARE ALREADY THREATENING EACH OTHER SDFHSDKFHSAKJDFHSDF. I’M- 💀💀💀
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GOOD LUCK WITH THAT!!! HAHAHAHAHA... 😶 (Also, James. That’s Crystal’s dad too. She’s might hate you for it lol. UNLESS-  👀 Plot twist: she hates her dad too.)
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Ok, I kinda get WHY he’d bring up James’s murder case in the first place. It’s like the “check and balance” thing where you counter them if they do something wrong or betray you. I get it. Eugene and James both have dirt on each other in case one betrays the other, but it sucks to think that Eugene has the upper-hand here because of his connections with the police. He can cover up ANY dirty thing that he does. Also, he can use his knowledge against James whenever he wants so James is just... stuck. Poor guy. Imagine having your ex-boss blackmail you and NOW your new ally blackmails you just to help him. 😭
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Yayyyyy killer bros together!!! 😍😍😍 The Psycho Alliance has made a brand new treaty. 🤭
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Literally, it really be like this. 
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Ok, but why do I find this hilarious? They’re still young, and they have so much time and opportunities to spend their youth without doing any illegal or gang related activities. Yet, their main goal is to kill an old guy. LMFAO OK, JUST IMAGINE. A random old guy sees them chatting outside in front of a cafe or something. discussing their plans about taking down Charles Choi. Then, this old man walks up to them, right? He asks them, “Oh my, you kids are so young! Don’t you have any special things that you want to do in your lives? Don’t just sit around and let time go by. You should go out and do something with your lives!” and then they reply with, “Oh, we are! We’re off to kill an old guy because we hate him!” Like... 👁👄👁  Bros, are you good? LMAAAOOOOOOOO 
Also, if you think this template is familiar, then you’re right. I couldn’t resist reusing this template because EUGENE REALLY GOT +25 CARDS UP PEOPLE’S ASSES. ESPECIALLY JAMES’S IN THIS SITUATION.
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“Hey Alexa, play Often by The Weeknd!” 🥵🥵🥵
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I’M SORRY. YOU GUYS ARE TIRED OF ME OBSESSING OVER THIS MAN, BUT LOOOOOOOOOOK AT HIM!!! 😍😍😍😍😍 LIKE GAAHHH DAYUUUUUUUM. THIS MAN CHANGED INTO A SIMPLER OUTFIT, BUT HE STILL LOOKS SO FIIINNNEEEEE!!!! UGGGHHHH. Ayo he can bend me backwards bro, I DON’T CARE. Gawk Gawk 9000? Uhhhh... LET ME CONSIDER- 👀 NAH I’M KIDDING... Or am I...? 😏 I’D LET HIM FOLD ME TOO. 😭😭😭💀💀💀💀💀 (And ofc he’s drinking Hibiki. 😂 Like brooooooo... hottest Yakuza I’ve ever seen. You can’t DENY.) 
*N S F W  M E M E S  W A R N I N G*
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Sorry. I just had to. 💀 ALSO, COMPLETELY UNRELATED BUT...
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I APOLOGIZE. I GOT NO “STOP” BUTTON WHEN IT COMES TO THIS MAN. 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 I’M SO SORRY!!! 
*E N D  O F  N S F W  M E M E S*
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AAAAAAAAND THE OLD MAN AGREES. HAHAHAHAHAHA Bruh, I’ve never seen him genuinely smile before. Is it just me? He always look so grumpy and serious all the time like  >:(  Tbh this panel really surprised me lol. 
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EW. BRUV. WHO BROUGHT IN TRASH OVER HERE??? 😭😭😭😭 HAVEN’T SEEN THEM IN FOREVER PERO LIKE, I DON’T MISS ANY OF YOU LMFAOOOOOO GTFO.
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OK, BUT THIS IS SO NOSTALGIC!!! SEEING LITTLE DANIEL BEAT THEM UP. 🥺🥺 This makes me reminisce the older Lookism chapters.
Also nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. You’re all getting your asses beaten for sure. Daniel will clap you all. Each. 👏🏽 And. 👏🏽 Every. 👏🏽 One. 👏🏽 Of. 👏🏽 You. 👏🏽
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OHHHHHH... WELL, SPEAKING ABOUT DANIEL-
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TIME TO GET HELLA CLAPPED!!!! 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆
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These fools. Smh. 
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OMGGGGGG IT’S DANIEL’S MOM!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH IT’S BEEN FOREVER. 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ BEST MOM EVER!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!! ALSO, NAH. YOU FUCKERS ARE FUCKED NOW. HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT SOMEONE’S MOM, LIKE WTF IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU? Do they not have respect for anybody? Sometimes I think about these so called “bullies” in this Webtoon. Like no wonder you guys are so fucked up, y’all don’t got any parents or something? No guardians who’d teach you how to be a decent person??? Any manners? 💀 At least Daniel has a mom who knows how to treat her own son. I’m guessing y’all are just jealous that you don’t have a great mom like Daniel who’d sacrifice herself just for her son because she LOVES HIMMMMM!!! 😤😤😤😤 If any of them approach me, I’m throwing hands. Idc. 
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GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🏃🏽‍♂️🏃🏽‍♂️🏃🏽‍♂️🏃🏽‍♂️🏃🏽‍♂️🏃🏽‍♂️
 Daniel Park for FIFA World Cup 2026. ⚽️🏆
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YEEEEESSSSSSS THAT’S OUR BOI. AHHHHH I’M SO PROUD OF HIM!!
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And when that one bitch from your old high school called you ugly, but now thinks you’re hot... 😑 
OH MY GOD. IT’S HAPPENING!!!!
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OH MY GOOOOOOODDDDDDD!!! 
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MA’AM, WE WERE AS SURPRISED AS YOU ARE WHEN WE FIRST SAW HIM CHANGE  TOO. 💀 AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! FINALLYYYYYY. WE GOT TO SEE HER REACTION TO HIS TRANSFORMATION!!! UGH. I’M GONNA GO CRY NOW. 😭😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
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He has matured into a very good man. And a fine one too... I’m so proud of him. His character development had come such a long way. 😭💞
THIS IS JUST MY THEORY. (Before any of you argue about this and flame my ass, I’m telling you now. This is just my opinion. Pls don’t get heated by it. Thank you.)  💀
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You know it’s about to get serious when an old person did the, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” pose. 🚨
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FINALLY. Jinyeong Park’s time to shine. 🤩 I’m getting a Darth Vader and Luke moment here. “Luke.... I am your father.” (That’s the only Star Wars reference I know. My bad.) And Jinyeong belongs to the dark side (The Worker’s First Affiliate), while Daniel is the main protagonist who belongs on the good side. Call me goofy, I know. Because my wack ideas make me think about my life choices sometimes. LMFAO But ANYWAYS, I CAN’T WAIT FOR DANIEL’S MOM TO EXPLAIN WHO JINYEONG PARK IS. I’m just glad that Daniel got to see his mom after everything that he had been through. The kid needs a break, and I’m here for it. ❤️
ALSO I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE HIS FAMILY’S REACTION TO HIS TRANSFORMATION. AHHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED!!! 🤪
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blimpintime · 9 months
Text
Dynamite part 1
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F! Reader “Dynamite”
18+ minors please do not interact :)
Series with @imdoingmybest0​, go check out the Bob x F!Reader story they’re writing, our stories are intertwined :) !!!!
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Getting to work on time has always been a trying task, but working at seven thirty in the morning on a goddamn Saturday should be illegal. Hence the getting ready at work because even as the acting manager I am still late. Being ten minutes late is not really a big deal because there is only one private tour this morning and that does not start till about 8 but its the nuance of it all. I try to be a good manager for my employees. Setting a strong example for them most of the time but we all have our days. And today is that day for me. First, it was sleeping through my final alarm due to staying up late the night before working on the schedule, then it was my power going out this morning so I couldn’t even make my personal iced oat milk latte due to my icecubes all being melted, and then it was my parking spot being taken and having to walk a good eight minutes to the building I am working in today. So to say I was already having a rough morning would be an understatement. All I wanted was a smooth Saturday to close off my week of working. So imagine my surprise when further into my shift I hear one of my tour guides getting berated by a customer who can’t read a fucking sign.
Since I was running late I decided to finish getting ready at work so in the middle of buttoning up my blouse and throwing on a cropped rock band t-shirt over it. I pop a piece of mint gum in my mouth and rip open the door that leads into the hanger where aircraft from the Cold War reside.
The door lashes open with a loud pop as it hit the wall, “I know someone is not yelling at my employee at eight in the fucking morning.” I say to the “customer” who is currently going in on my employee Sweetie who is giving a private tour to a group of Naval Aviators.
“Oh, Dynamite you’re-” Sweetie goes to stop me. I put my hand up to stop her and stand in front of the group.
“Are you the manager here? I have a bone to pick with you over your choice of staff.” The Karen says as she looks Sweetie up and down.
“Oh for the love,” I say exasperated looking up and rubbing my temples. “What seems to be the issue here ma’am.” Trying to hold some sort of sense of professionalism in my tone but that seems to be dwindling quickly and severely. The lady looks at me and then scoffs. Oh for fucks sake dude it’s a Saturday why can’t we all just be happy I think to myself. I look back at her and encourage her to rant with a certain glint in my eye when I notice a drink in her hand. So not only are we rude to staff but we also can’t read, the thought passes over me.
The group for the tour seems to be re-engaging in the conversation sensing the tension rising due to the rude tourist. I glance at them and glance back at the lady. My eye twitches when I noticed the kids with the women running around the hangar with snacks in their hands.
“And what bone would that be ma’am?” I say with a twitch in my brow.
“She is not allowing me to be in this hangar when I am a. Paying. Customer.” And in between each word smacking her drink in her hands. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, this is what therapy is for. Coping skills to deal with idiots.
“Ma’am I love to be the bearer of bad news for you, but this hangar is closed for a private tour,” I say and gesture to the group of Pilots with a smile so clenched my teeth might pop out of place. “There is a sign at the front where you bought your tickets and then another at the entrance of this hangar that explains the private tour. And we have a sign that says no food or drink in here as well,” I say with a controlled breath.
“Yes, but I am a paying customer so I deserve to see all of the exhibits when I want.” The lady says slowly. One thing about me that I have yet to learn to control is the anger I experience when someone talks to me like I’m stupid. It’s a simple hot rage that flows through me that makes my fingers go numb. I twitch a smile out.
“Yes, a paying customer that can’t seem to understand simple signs that tell her no. No drinks. No food. No tour as of the moment, if you have a problem I don’t particularly care. You can leave through the door you came from or you can leave with the help of security. I’m sure Paul would love to throw out some meddlesome people who get off on yelling at service workers.” This feels good, letting my early Saturday morning rage out on an entitled prick.
“Now who is your manager, young lady?” The angered woman practically growled at me as she got in my face. Well tried to considering with my heeled boots and already being on the taller side for height, I take a step closer to her and slightly lean down and make us so close our noses are almost touching. I blow a bubble with my gum and pop it with my teeth. “Me.” I let out with a smile that I hope makes me look borderline crazy.
Someone from the group mummers something along the line of “That was hot”. I place my hand on the woman’s shoulder gently, “You see here ma’am.” I say with a bite to my tone and nudge her towards the exit. “I practically own this museum, so let me repeat what I said earlier but with a little more bluntness. Leave.”  I smile at her as she eventually leaves muttering about leaving a bad review and telling everyone she knows how shitty of an establishment this is. “Bye now! Have a lovely Saturday.” I say waving giddy and sarcastically. Then turning to Sweetie and her tour group.
“Sorry about that y’all. I hope you enjoy the rest of your tour with our Sweetie here.” I smile at them a softer smile, and pat Sweetie on the shoulder. “If anyone has any questions at all let me know, I’ll be over here figuring out paperwork at the side desk.” Pointing to a desk with the sign “Need help?” on it.
I walk over there taking a deep breath and letting the anger that was once flushing my body leave. Listening to my boots hit the floor and humming a slight tune of an indie rock song. I grab my name tag off the counter that says “Dynamite” with a sticker of a stick of dynamite on it thanks to Sweetie.
“So Dynamite, that’s your callsign?” A man with vibrant green eyes and a killer smile asks me as I shuffled through papers on the desk.
“Yes Doll, it is,” I say with a smile that actually reached my eyes. His face flushed slightly and he laughed lightly. He leaned up against the desk I am standing behind and whispered “Doll? Normally that’s my line.” I rolled my eyes and suddenly felt a tad disappointed, of course, this fine-ass man was a player.
“Ah you’re one of those huh?” I say sort of bored and looked back down to the papers. He suddenly scoffed and straightened back up. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he said with a slightly hurt tone.
“It means Doll,” I say briefly making eye contact with him, “that you like to hit on women and aren’t looking to be in a relationship. Which is fine hotshot but that’s not me.” Then I go to the computer to log in and get it started.
“That’s a little judgemental don’t you think?” He asks with a slightly southern drawl. I sigh and look up at him and put my left hand on my hip and sit slightly into it, all of which he watches with interest. “Sir, who said I wasn’t judgy? Did you not just watch the interaction I had with that ‘paying customer’?” I say with a small laugh. I am super judgemental, it protects me from people with bad intentions. Not good for my energy.
“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot Dyno. Let’s restart.” He states as if there was no real choice for me in the matter, he was gonna try and restart anyway. I laugh at the gall of him. “Okay Doll, let’s restart.” I respond.
“My name’s Jake, callsign Hangman. And you are the woman of my dreams.” He says with a bright smile. Lovesick fool, I think.
“I think Doll suits you better.” I say with a small quirk of my lips and wink. He clutches his heart and says, “You’re killing me Hon.”  He leans back onto the desk and tells me, “I think I do have a question for you Miss Dynamite.” tapping the “Need Help?” sign with a rhythmic set of taps.  
I lean forward to get closer to him and ask, “and what’s that Dollface?”
“Go on a date with me.” He stated with a sly smile. I lean even closer and look him in those captivating green eyes and say “That wasn’t a question Darlin.” and lean back with a smile when I notice he flushes again. “Marry me?” He asks with dead serious look, I stare at him with a blank face and he stares back blankly before we both burst into a small fit of intimate laughter. “Ask me in a few years maybe,” I say. “You need to ask a girl out to dinner first.”
“Does that mean you’re gonna say yes Hon?” He asks hopeful, “I guess we’ll never know seeming as you haven’t asked me yet.” I say with a chuckle.
“Hon, would you do me the honor of going to dinner with me?” He asked me hopefully.
“Yes Doll, I would love to.” I respond with a bright smile.
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A/N: I hope y'all enjoyyyyyyyy, this is the first part of many to my Dynamite series :)
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drdemonprince · 1 year
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I know people got angry about the "talking about caffeine like any other drug" thing but I think it's so helpful not just to discuss the arbitrary lines between legal and illegal substances but also for informed consent purposes *with* caffeine itself. For example my use of alcohol has changed drastically since reading Unmasking Autism because I didn't realize I was only able to interact with allistics in the context of relaxed social rules when everybody was drinking. Now that I have that information my decisions around it are much different (basically using alcohol only when I *want* to get the feelings it gives me, and when I have to interact with people using other coping strategies instead).
I can't quit caffeine right now, but I might reduce its use in the future and only use it when I want that caffeinated feeling and not to keep up with work like I do now. Which I didn't even think about before, precisely because even though I rationally knew it was a drug I never thought of it as a "drug-drug".
Yo yessss thank you!!! Informed consent means being fully apprised of the risks and benefits of a substance, and having the freedom to choose when to use it. Currently, very few of us enjoy that level of empowered freedom with just about any substance that we use.
Our doctors don't tell us about all the risks of the drugs we are on (I'm still bitter as hell nobody told me that my muscle development would be stunted by going on hormonal birth control at 18!!! and that it would give me lasting breast growth), and the substances that are not medically prescribed but legal are ones that many of us quaff without thought, and without ever being told the effects of. For instance, did you know prolonged use of Benadryl increases the risk of developing Alzheimers??? I didn't! and i was using that shit to fall asleep and regulate anxiety for a time!!
In the United States in particular there is no open conversation with young people about the potential effects of alcohol, how the drug can act like a mild stimulant in smaller doses but then ricochet into massively depressing effects after hours of use, with an anxiety spike hours beyond that as it leaves the system. We don't talk to people about the effects of caffeine -- and that it's not necessarily normal for so many people to deal with daily gastric issues, trouble falling asleep, trouble sitting still, and intense irritability all day long as presently do.
Some people are just like that, some people have anxiety disorders and benefit from anti-anxiety meds to treat those symptoms, some people find ways of coping with it that involve mindfulness or meditation or whatever else -- but a great number of people who experience these issues are only going through them because they're on caffeine and they're working too hard. And what they've come to believe is an inevitable part of their chemistry is in fact economically and socially created from the outside, and could be prevented if they were only able to stop.
but many of them can't stop. because of capitalism. and so they aren't informed about the real risks & costs of the substances they are using, and they aren't freely able to revoke their (dubious) consent.
meanwhile as someone who only started using weed regularly about a year and a half ago and who is now curious about trying psychedelics, ive been lovingly inundated in helpful tips, usage guides, listings of various strains and their distinct effects, lab results testing doses, etc from the people I know who are passionate about those substances and want to ensure that anybody else using them has a good time.
I don't want to paint these substances with a pollyannaish brush either -- weed can trigger hallucinations and psychotic episodes in some segments of the population, a fact that too many ardent weed heads ignore -- but the difference in the level of control I have over my experience as a weed user and the utter lack of information and self-determination I have when seeking out prescribed meds, or even ingesting caffeine, is unreal.
So many foods covertly contain caffeine or openly are caffeinated yet don't document how many milligrams of the substance it has, for example. It's impossible to safely and responsibly use a substance when you don't even know how much you're getting, and it's bizarre we're all being dosed with stimulants all day long often without even realizing it.
this might seem like a low-importance example, and people will say to me dismissively that caffeine doesn't ruin any lives, but when I look back on how much I've used the substance to further my eating disorder and how many people i've been short and cruel-tempered with over the years because i was downing cups and cups of the stuff all day without reflection, i'm not sure i believe that argument.
but of course all roads in this conversation lead back to capitalism. i wouldnt have been drinking this stuff with abandon if i hadn't been trying to shove three days of work into a single 8 hours, and if my culture and economic system hadn't been foisting the stuff on me from day one.
my uncle says that i was always a deeply anxious kid, i guess it was something that my grandmother fretted about as well, and yet when i decided in my teens to start boosting that anxiety with caffeine every day, and became even more moody and negative, nobody connected the dots, and nobody thought to warn me. and why would they, nobody warned them.
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acerathia · 5 months
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Trick or Treat? TREAT!
Vampire Kakashi for @strawberrystepmom <3 for this event, literally going insane about this oops, thank u sm for sending smth in
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There's something off about Kakashi, and you intend to find out.
wc: 1.0k
cw/tags: borderline stalker behaviour (reader), kakashi is a vampire, twilight reference? maybe, implied blood drinking after this scene is over
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You’ve known Kakashi for some time now, but he still is full of mysteries. Because sometimes he looks like he aged ten years, all heavy shoulders, pale skin and dark eyebags, and the rest of the time, he looks almost like a young adult still getting to know the world around him, all grins, laughter and mischief. And you have to admit, you’re curious. How is this man cheating time, or he just has a really good skincare routine. Either way, you wanted to know the details, even if it just means to have that glowing skin in the early mornings. 
So, you investigate, you don’t do anything dangerous or illegal, even if only borderline legal. But you study his schedule, trying to find a rhyme or reason to the way his entire mood changes. And as much as you try to look into it, there’s no connection between his work life, his non-existent relationships, and the erratic changes. 
After months of investigation, you decide to do one last thing, one last try to discover the truth: you’re going to follow him home. Just once, hopeful you might catch the exact way he’s doing whatever he’s doing. 
With that decision, one day you start tailing him. And at first, his way seemed normal, getting groceries, chatting with older ladies. Until it started getting late, that’s when he slowly made his way to the edge of the forest, walking along the borders, following no real path. At this stage, you had to keep a bigger distance between you and him, lest he discovers you before anything really happens. 
A couple of meters behind, you continue to follow him with slow, careful steps, until he finally enters a big mansion, and you just stop in front of it, stunned. How did he own such a place? And why would he keep it a secret? 
You frown at the front door, refusing to reach that level of behavior, so you try to sneak a peek through the window. To your misery, there were heavy curtains in front of them, barring you from seeing inside at all. 
A curse slips over your lips, and you resign, you can only go home now, maybe even give the whole operation up as a whole. You were about to turn around, when the door suddenly opens, and you can’t help but flinch a couple of steps away, skin getting hotter at the prospect of getting caught. 
“Good evening. How long did you want to wait in front of the door?” Kakashi asks, leaning against the door frame, something like amusement glinting in his dark eyes. 
“Uh, I– I was just about to go?” you croak, trying to find the chance to turn around and flee. 
He cocks his head, contemplating. “Well, you already made quite an effort to tail me all day, why not come in and rest? Drink a cup of tea?”
You splutter, embarrassment flooding into your brain as he seems to have known all along, so you nod, accepting his proposal. 
He nods, too, opening the door wider to allow you to enter his place. And as you walk in, you notice how dim the light inside is, how no sun is able to penetrate these heavy curtains, and you can’t help but frown. This cannot be healthy in any way. But you’d rather die than to tell him that you question his decor choices. 
So, you just follow him silently, taking a seat in the living room, and this place reminds you of some gothic manor, all soft and expensive. 
He sits opposite you, crossing his feet in an elegant manner, and for some reason this doesn’t feel like the Kakashi you know, it’s almost like there’s a wholly different person in front of you, and you get goosebumps at the thought of him being a total stranger. 
“So–”
“I’m sorry! Don’t murder me, it would be a shame to get blood stains on this beautiful sofa, it’s not worth it, is it?” you start rambling, trying to convince him to not kill you, you value your life, and everyone makes mistakes, why should you die for it?
A chuckle interrupts your frantic thoughts. “Don’t worry, I won’t. But because you put in the effort to ‘investigate’ what’s wrong with me, I shall just tell you. And I’m telling you this, because no one will believe you,” he explains in his deep voice, compelling you to just listen to him. “Well, you see, it’s simple, really. I’m a vampire.”
“Are you fu–”, you stop in the middle of your complaint, putting the pieces together. If he drinks blood, he looks rejuvenated, and if he has abstained for too long, he looks like he’s about to meet his early grave, and you’ve never seen him without his mask, or eating anything. “Wait… But what about the sun?”
“My skin is barely exposed to the sun like that, and this bit of exposition won’t hurt me as long as I take my time to repose in the dark,” he explains, his eyes telling you how funny your reaction is to him. 
And you can’t help but wonder how he looks without the mask, all fangs and blood, dark eyes heavy and lidded after a satisfying drink. You swallow and take a deep breath. 
“Uhm, wow, okay. I was not expecting this… Can I– Can I see your fangs? Only if you feel comfortable to do so, I was just wondering…” you trail off, as he pulls his mask down without hesitation, and in front of you suddenly sits someone with such beauty, your mind needs some time to reboot. 
There they are, his fangs, glinting and sharp, and barely biting into the skin of his lips. You wonder how much they hurt. How they would feel against your skin, against your neck. 
You can’t help but stare at him, one question remaining. “How does it work?”
His eyes, suddenly heavy, glance all over your face, only to graze your neck. “Do you want to find out?”
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pplatonic · 7 months
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Baby's First Pride
I'm 16 and a half years old. I came out to my parents inspired by a story at my school's GSA - just walk up the stairs and call it out. I was terrified, but they were accepting, and I learnt that my brother has trans friends and that Mom even experimented with girls when she was a teen. It's 5:10 PM, so it's probably time to go to the pride event Mom has been talking about all week. She said her boss told her about it, and that it's all ages. I get dressed in my Hatsune Miku cosplay, drape my Aromantic pride flag around my shoulders, and tie the ends in a reef knot around my neck to wear it as a cape.
I go downstairs, putting my Miku wallet in my bag, and take a short video of me twirling around to send it to my friends captioned 'ARO MIKU IS GOING TO PRIDE.' When I get outside, my parents and Mom's friend coo at my outfit, saying I look nice. They say goodbye to Mom's friend and they get ready, and they stop at Walmart to buy 'pride gear' to try and match my look. They get me pins, because they know I love pins.
I listen to my playlist of Magical Mirai albums as Dad drives us to the pride event. He does an illegal U-turn, and I tell him cops aren't allowed at pride, so we're okay. We park.
When we get there, the first thing we notice is all the food trucks. We ate before we came here, because they didn't think there'd be food. The first thing we do is Mom and Dad get alcoholic canned drinks, and they later buy me a cold vanilla latte at a different booth. We start walking around.
Mom's more interested in the concert being held by a queer artist who's name I didn't catch, and she jokes about us going to mosh there. I tell her it's dangerous and that I'm wearing my binder right now, and my dad comments that he didn't even notice.
While we're standing and waiting around, Dad perplexedly exclaims that there's a bar. I tell him as a joke that of course there's a bar, this is pride. He doesn't get it, so I explain the history of gay bars and the Mafia and all of that, and tell him the original pride parade was a protest where parking meters were uprooted and bricks were thrown at cops.
We start walking around to the several booths of queer creatives selling their art, and my eyes are battling between scouting for pins and looking at all the kinds of people here. It's truly all ages, from seniors to toddlers. I see as many visibly disabled and plus-size people as I do visibly abled and skinny people. When we first started walking in to the event, we saw a person in a cutesy lolita-styled outfit with cat ears and tail in the trans colours, in front of someone embracing their trans flag.
As I look around, I see various flags: bi, pan, lesbian, trans, nonbinary, genderfluid. On a couple people's shirts I see the ace flag. But as far as I'm aware, I'm the only person here in this entire crowd wearing the Aromantic flag. It's bittersweet, to be the sole representation of your people.
I see people in all styles of clothing as well: goth, punk, alternative, grunge, trendy, cute, casual, retro. I see some people standing out in absolutely fabulous outfits with sequins everywhere. I see a dog in a gay-coloured tutu, and a person with pride-coloured butterfly wings on their arms. Half the people here have dyed hair of some kind.
We sit down and take a break. It's near the mini waterpark nearby, which makes it fresh and cool-feeling and perfect for a break. A child with endless joys in their heart ends up spraying us with water, and we get a move on. I go around to multiple booths and buy an assortment of pins, one that says "I'M SO GAY I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT" and one with a fuzzy Aro-coloured animal on it.
When we sit for a final break, I find two dirty books on the ground as Mom hands me a progress flag pin she found. I pick up the books. One is a 'queer history tour' of Edmonton brochure that has multiple locations of down-town and their associated queer histories. The other book is a mental wellness book targeted mainly at Indigenous folk, but I decide to take it any way since a lot of it advice applies to everyone. I show my Mom the page on ableist language, that talks about replacing words like 'crazy,' 'insane,' and 'psycho' with words like 'wild,' 'bananas,' and 'ridiculous.'
When we start walking back to the car, we see a group of four dressed ridiculously. One of them has massive, bouncing balloon tits, and they stand out the most. I'm afraid of what my parent's reaction will be, and this is what I told them to be nice about before we came, because pride was and still is a protest. They laugh and move on. I'm a little surprised that they're so cool with it.
We stop by the truck at the very start of the walk as Mom comments on it. It's a kink gear store. I stare in awe at the bear pride flag and leather puppy pride flag, telling my family about them. I have to ask one of them to confirm it's the leather puppy flag because I'm not wholly sure, and the people running the truck smile as they teach me about it.
We drive home, and as we walk back to the house, I think about Mom and Dad's reaction to the person with the balloon tits. I think about how they laughed kindly at one of the biggest displays of societal norm defiance I've ever seen. And then I think about the openly disabled people I saw with their pretty canes and wheelchairs, I think about the punks with fishnets and leather jackets and high boots, I think about the emo kandi kids with their black-and-rainbow stockings and vibrant kandi cuffs, I think about the booth run by African black people that stood for trans black liberation, I think about the truck run by kinksters decorated with historical flags, I think about the two feminine-presenting people I saw kissing and the transmasculine gay couple I saw holding hands.
I think about all of us, the societal outcasts that we are, proudly displaying what outcasted us in the first place, without a single person yelling that we're faggots, or trannies, or cripples, or fatasses, or freaks.
And for the first time in a long time, in all my childhood where I was ostracized from the girls for being too tomboyish from the boys for being born a girl, so badly until I started ostracizing myself, I know that I'm safe and welcome, somewhere in the world.
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aerodaltonimperial · 9 months
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(@whysamwhy123 requested the Hook and Jack flashback party scene from that spooky lighthouse AU and Sam is amazing SO HERE YOU GO, SAM ❤️❤️❤️ i am supposed to be writing other things but my grandfather is not doing great and is being moved to hospice so i am sort of just choosing some joy today)
Honestly, as far as house parties go, it's got to be one of the best Jack has ever been to. It's hard to beat a mom's vacation home purchased solely with the money won in the divorce because dad was caught cheating; making the best of a situation like that and outfitting it with a hillside infinity pool and a sprawling patio around it? Amazing. And letting your college kid throw a rager there while you vacation in Naples with your new surgeon boyfriend? Well. Jack’s a big fan of that lady already.
He's also a biiiig fan of whoever decided that kegs were for losers and set up the full bar out near the fire pit. They hired an actual bartender. He's standing next to the professional DJ. Fuck, Jack loves college.
He does not, however, love that his roommate is here, too, only because they've been trying to get a room switch for months and the RA is dragging his feet so bad. Hook is moody and scowly and speaks in monosyllables at all times, and Jack just doesn't have time for this. Random room match-ups should be illegal.
Jack takes another swig of his drink. He doesn't even know what it is, since he stopped asking three glasses ago, but it's delicious and goes down without burning, and ah shit, there's Hook: leaning over the rail of the patio with all the sparkling Bay lights beyond. Jack's just drunk enough not to turn away.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, and Hook startles, surprise flashing before his face settles into annoyance.
"Go away," Hook says.
"Ooh, two words. That's double your usual; well done."
It seems like Hook has also had enough of the extremely well-made drinks to finally start down this path they’ve been trying to avoid since the start of term to prevent casualties, because he shifts to face Jack. He's got that face on, the one Jack already knows means he is sinking his heels down to ready for battle. "Maybe I just don't want to talk to you, so I don't."
"This is a rare miracle," Jack says. His blood is singing. "So many words at one time! Are you exhausted now? Do you need to lay down?"
"You know what? Fuck you."
"Are you offering?" Jack asks, because he can't help it.
Hook leans in, all flushed cheeks and tangled hair desperately in need of a brush, and his stupid fucking rabbit teeth are very white when he grins. "Would you like that, then?"
"I might," Jack says, and oh. Okay. Fuck. He didn't mean to say that. He probably needs to make a joke, walk that back, not tell his roommate that he hates things that he's been keeping close for years and years. "I'm not really sure, you know, it's kind of one of those things..."
Double fuck. Triple fuck. Why is his mouth still moving. What did the bartender put in this drink?
He expects Hook to either laugh or punch him, honestly, and he's very, very surprised when Hook does neither. Instead, his face opens up a little bit, features going slack.
"Something to use against me, right?" Jack says, jittery and anxious. "Just so you can—"
"Wait," Hook says. He holds a hand up, swaying ever so slightly from side to side as he shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes. Uh...me, too."
"You too, what?"
"Um, the whole...maybe...thing."
Jack blinks. "Oh. Really? You're not just fucking with me right now?"
"Uh, no?"
Huh. That's...unexpected, in a way. Jack feels significantly less alone all of a sudden, and it helps a lot that Hook now appears uncomfortably vulnerable. It's not an expression Jack has seen on the other much. "Maybe, huh?"
"Well, it's hard to..." Hook shrugs. Definitely uncomfortable. His hands are shoved so far down in his pockets Jack thinks he might pull his jeans clear off. "...find an opportunity to figure it out."
"Yeah, right? How do you just ask someone that?"
They fall into silence. Someone on the other side of the pool starts up a chant for shots, and the crowd around the bar grows; there are enough people, all in various states of inebriation, that no one is paying attention to the two of them standing off by the railing.
Finally, just as Jack gathers the remnants of his courage and focus and begins, "Do you think we—?" and at the same time Hook sort of shudders and starts, "Could we maybe—?"
They both stop, mid-sentence. Then Jack sets his drink on the railing. "Yeah."
"Okay," Hook agrees.
They meet in the middle. Jack's angle isn't great, but, like, it's not terrible, either. It's kind of a hesitant, fumbling thing at first, and Jack closes his eyes because it's definitely different with Hook's stubble, the squareness of his jaw. It's...it's not bad. He likes the way he can smell Hook's stupidly expensive aftershave, likes when he sinks his fingers into Hook's hair and it's all short in the back. Actually, this...yeah, this works. Hook kisses with the same almost-arrogant confidence he carries around with him all the time, and when he tugs Jack forward, Jack sees no problem with complying. It's not really that much different, kissing a guy, except that it is, and Jack thinks it might be an internal thing tallying all the differences up. Hook parts his lips, and Jack sweeps his tongue in, and they sort of stay like that, in an unexpected sort of exploration, for a minute or two.
Then they break apart. Jack runs his tongue along his own mouth, tasting the remnants of whatever Hook is drinking. They are both quiet.
"But maybe not you," Hook says.
"Oh thank god," Jack replies. "Yes, exactly."
"The rest of it though..." Hook pauses. "Yeah, this...this is a thing."
"Do you think we have to go buy pride flags now?"
Hook considers this. "Surely there's, like, a grace period before you have to do that, right?"
"God, I hope so," Jack says. "You wanna go back home? I feel like I've just had some kind of exhausting emotional revelation and the last half hour of songs have really sucked."
Hook whips his phone out, tapping wildly. "Yeah, let's grab an Uber. I'll order one. You wanna watch a movie or something? Get some take-out?"
"I would kill for fries right now."
++
They run into their RA the next week in the hall, holding a clipboard and a bunch of papers. He holds the pile up. "I got your roommate change approved, finally. You wanna sign now?"
"What?" Jack asks. "Oh, no, man, we don't need that anymore."
The RA's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head. "What do you mean you don't need it anymore? You sent me 37 emails about it."
"Well, that was before."
"In a week."
Jack turns to Hook, who shrugs his backpack on. "Can you imagine dealing with a new roommate right now?"
"Nightmare material," Hook says. "Let's go, lunch gets crowded at the Union and I've got Econ at 1."
"Cool, I'm ready."
They leave the RA in the hall having some sort of nervous breakdown, but that seems like a him problem, really.
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